Trapped Together
by SimonDoesFanfiction
Summary: Kirby and one of his big foes find themselves trapped in a mysterious complex and must find the wit to escape. ...Except, were they even enemies to begin with...? This question, along with many more, are brought up, willingly or otherwise. NON-CANON Part 3 in my Kirby series.
1. It's a Start

**Hello weirdos**

 **It's me. The all powerful SIMON**

 **Sorry for not updating for like freakin' months lol**

 **I have taken up a new game as lead programmer called "Nothing and the Black Moon". The story lead has some awesome ideas I'm looking forward to.**

 **In the meantime, here is some Kirby for you**

 **Enjoy, RnR 'n all dat boiiii**

 **(WTF was that X/)**

He had woken up in a room. A very dimly-lit room. It didn't even seem all that spacious. He barely had enough space to simply be laying there on the floor, unwavering, unmoving.

The puffball, Kirby, didn't really have much strength to pick himself up, though. His entire being ached with pain, with parts of his midsection stinging as though someone had cut through him in a vicious encounter. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something very wrong was going on.

But what could Kirby do about it now, in this state of total, complete weakness? Consciously, the puff wanted to get up and dash away and find his path back home, and yet his body, strained, didn't dare budge. But why...?

A memory flashed before the young Star Warrior's eyes. It was brief, it was vague, and yet it conveyed enough information to give a general idea for what had happened to him. He was running. Running away from...a crowd of people? Carrying pitchforks and knives, shouting something the poor pink being couldn't for the life of him understand. They seemed to be chasing him out of a town of some sort. Maybe Cappy Town? Had he done something wrong? He couldn't tell; it didn't at all resemble the Cappy Town he knew, but who knows? Certainly not him.

Slowly but surely, his senses have started to return following this unknown period of unconsciousness. First, his touch. He could feel the floor he was lain atop of. It was hardwood, and hadn't seemed to have been vacuumed in a long time since it was very dusty. He sneezed after having breathed some in. Next was his hearing; in the background there was a constant, faint buzzing sound, as if it were ventilating the room he was in. The air was pretty cold wherever this was, and his body was starting to freeze as a result.

Kirby soon recognized that if he had only just now started growing cold, then it must mean that either he had only just recently arrived or somebody else had turned on the cooler just before he woke up.

Great. He had been kidnapped. Not to worry, though. Kirby was, for better or worse, familiar with kidnappings. He could easily escape as soon as he regained his strength...

"So...you're trapped here, too?"

The voice sent a chill down Kirby's spine. It was...eerily familiar, yet he couldn't quite recognize who it was. Ah, well. At least he had company. In the meantime, what did the voice mean by—

Oh. His right foot was bound with rope to the wall. Not good.

"No use trying to leave. Trust me, Kirby, I tried."

How did he know his name? "P...poy—?"

"Ah well. What are we supposed to do?" The voice interrupted, footsteps creeking the floor beneath them. "It isn't like one is allowed to..." A shape emerged from the darkness. "...or can escape from...death, can they, Kirby?"

The puffball gasped in shock. He whimpered, trying to find the words to describe or refute what he was seeing. Why, oh, why couldn't he find the right words to say...

"Oh...I know what you're going to say..." The shape leaned in further, tilting its head and revealing itself for the purple menace that it was. "M-Marx!" He yelled out as he gave his best Kirby mockery as he could. "Aren't you s'pposed to be dead, poyo?" He took a deep breath before resuming with his normal voice. "Oh, wouldn't you love to know, Kirby? I bet you really would love to know..."

He had been kidnapped by Marx. Kidnapped by Marx. The same Marx that had encouraged him to get a wish from the mighty Nova so he could selfishly take over Popstar! And now he was back, ready to torture him as vengeance, wasn't he? Kirby shrieked in agony, scurrying away from one of his great foes as quickly as possible, only resulting in him running into the wall where he was attached to.

Marx, rather than chuckle over the pink puff's rash and frankly stupid escape attempt, was genuinely confused. "Um, Kirby? I don't have hands, remember? Besides, I'm trapped in here, too."

"Stay away, poyo!" Kirby yelped, turning to face the jester. "Marx bad! Marx really really bad, poyo!"

"Heh. Thanks for the news flash."

He frowned. "Poyono! You stay away from me!"

"Relax! I not's like I can hurt you." Marx responded, now thoroughly fed up with his fellow captive's attitude. "Besides, I need your help, and you're certainly gonna need mine."

Kirby decided to settle down. Just slightly. He wasn't going to let this fiend manipulate him again. Having now regained some of his energy from the panic Marx had instilled within him not too long ago, he sat himself down with little issue. Marx sat in front of him, deciding now to wear his typical devilish smile.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" said the jester.

"About what?" asked Kirby, not letting his guard down.

"I hate you. And you hate me. I get that." Marx explained. "But whoever placed us here seems to be wanting us to cooperate to escape. You see..." he turned toward a tipped over nightstand across the room. "There was a key on that table there that opens that door..." He now faces a wooden door with a lock on it, with a window covered by iron bars near its top. "The lock's too high for either of us to reach it, and..." He chuckled. "Well, I don't have hands, so...yeah."

"You want me to put key in door?" Kirby's speaking skills were far from perfect, but sufficient enough in this context to both communicate and understand Marx's request.

"Please, Kirby? Please?" Marx stressed that last please very hard, stretching out the word for as long as he could.

Kirby grumbled, trying to think of alternatives, but soon recognized that he had few other options available to him. He begrudgingly accepted Marx's request. But that was it! One favor! Once they escaped this strange place, they would become bitter rivals once more. Or as bitter as a jester bouncing around on his favorite ball and a puffball who bided his time sleeping beneath trees, playing around with some kids, and slaying demon beasts would call a rivalry. He nodded in agreement.

"Excellent! Now...lemme see what I can do here..." Marx walked over to Kirby's rear to investigate the rope that bound him. "What to do about this?" He stomped on the knot. Hard. The sudden movement of the rope down Kirby's foot made him squeak in pain.

"Just run forward!" Marx encouraged him. "Whoever tied this thing did a terrible job keeping it tight!"

Kirby followed, and lo and behold, the knot slowly but surely undid itself once he started walking away from Marx and the back wall. Once free, however, he dashed towards the key, snatched it, and booked for the door.

"Uh? K-Kirby! Wait!" Marx yelled.

Kirby rushed to get the key in the keyhole, jumping up to try and reach it, just barely missing on most occasions. After a bit of panicked trial and error, he managed to stick the key in the lock and unlatched the door.

He reached the other side just as an enraged Marx made a mad dash towards Kirby's position. The puffball swiftly slammed the door behind him, and held it shut. When the purple jester collided with the wood, a loud thud was heard, the force of the impact so great that Kirby nearly fell over trying to hold the door in place.

He turned around, locating the lock on his side of the door. He jumped up again to reach it when Marx, in a strained, almost desparate plea, called out to him. "Kirby...please..." he softly moaned, but by then it was to late.

The door had been locked, and Kirby now found himself at the end of a long, stone hallway. He was exhausted from the sheer speed of what had just occurred, but it was well worth it in Kirby's eyes. He had stopped the sadistic Marx from being able to roam freely in Dreamland! Now, at long last, came the matter of getting out of here.

But before the puffball could continue, he heard something. Someone crying to themselves. It was Marx. But why? Had he not learned from his previous mistakes? Nobody would trust him. Best to leave him here.

And yet...there was a tingling feeling inside... A feeling of immense guilt. What was going on? Kirby thought to himself.

He listened in to Marx's crying, a few words occasionally choking their way out.

"K...Kirby...Please don't leave me here..."

"I don't wanna die alone..."

"W-why...? Why w-would you leave me here to die...?"

"Weren't...Weren't we...f-friends, Kirby...?"

The last one froze the puffball in his tracks. He had been so weak upon his awakening here that when Marx had surprised him earlier, he had only remembered him from his instincts. His mind erupted with memories, causing Kirby to tremble in their wake.

The two had met after Kirby had first dethroned Nightmare and his Nightmare Enterprise Corporation. Well, actually, it was called the New Enterprise and """Merit""" Corporation, but it had always rendered in his mind as Nightmare, as that was who truly controlled said company.

Kirby didn't initially know why his train of thought brought up that random, irrelevant piece of information when he remembered that it was Marx that had told him that. Back when they first met.

Marx was like the companion Kirby never had. Sure, he had his mentor and fellow Star Warrior, the mysterious Meta Knight, as well as the cabinet minister's children, Tiffany "Tiff" Fumu Ebrum, the older, more caring older daughter, and Theodore "Tuff" Bun Ebrum, the more rabscallious yet charming younger brother. But Marx was vastly unlike any of them, and their friendship more meaningful, especially as time went on. In particular, once the children had begun to grow up, their bond was somewhat unmatchable. He remembered the times they sat out together, gazing at the stars, telling each other about their dreams, traveling through all of Dreamland.

And then there was the Sun and Moon incident, where all good things came to an end. All at once, their unbreakable friendship was snipped to pieces when Marx, his selfish desires warped beyond recognition by Nova, wished to rule all of planet Popstar. Kirby was forced to clean up the mess, culminating in a final battle where he slew the monster his friend had become. He remembered the horrific, taunting screeches and disfigurements on his face, yet when Kirby at last thrust his sword upon his former friend's darkened heart, he could hear the faint whisper of his friend's voice — his real voice — beg for forgiveness. Beg for salvation from this corruption of his soul and mind. And Kirby, the renounced Hero of Dreamland, just turned his back on that faint whisper, disregarding it as just that...and sobbed.

He would barely move on from that point in his life. The experience had traumatized the young puff more so than the battles against NME — or NMEC...technically — ever could've hoped. He had stayed alone in his hut for days on end, mourning his best friend not for his friendship but for his betrayal. He ultimately told himself it was for the better to just let it all go in the end, yet no friend could ever match Marx. Never again. At least Dreamland could rest safe without worrying about a tyrant ruling over it...

The nightmares came next. Marx, even in death (supposed death?), affected the fragile Kirby. Not even the might of the Fountain of Dreams could rid Kirby of the onslaught of terror that cursed the boy's nights where the purple joker had appeared. But even this too soon fell numb to Kirby.

But then he remembered their latest crossing of paths. In their latest adventure together. Kirby didn't entirely trust Marx during the whole endeavor, but it seemed as if some of the old flames of friendship had, at last, been rekindled and reconciled to an extent.

Marx didn't entirely know how or why he had survived, either. But Kirby, ever-famed for his forgiving nature, was willing to allow Marx this second opportunity. And Marx truly was willing to give it his all this time around. It was just like — no — better than the old days. He had actually chosen to go on the adventure with him! If one thing had changed, it was that Marx was far more confident in himself than he had been prior. At one point, he and Marx were looking over the cliff side during sunset. He remembered his face turning hot red when he leaned in closer to Marx's side. It was...beautiful... It seemed, at long last...after all this pain...

"Kirby?" the jester sniffed. "Are...are you okay...?"

Kirby hadn't realized that he himself had been crying. He hadn't realized that he himself had been sobbing softly into his paws.

He had dreamed for so long for Marx to come back to him. For them to be friends again. At long last, after much pain and hardship...that dream was coming true...

And here he was. Actively destroying his own dreams right in front of him. Actively giving in to his nightmares of the devilish Marx that had haunted him for so long. What had he done...?

He collapsed to the ground, sulking in a pool of his own tears.

"I...I already said I was s-sorry, Kirby..." Marx murmured on the other side. "What else must I say to convince you...?"

Kirby remained motionless. He didn't want to move. Not anymore.

"Do I have to do something...?" Marx pleaded. "Must I do something to convince you...?"

"M...Marx..." he barely spoke. He couldn't speak. The raw emotion had overtaken him.

"Do I...Do I have to die again to appease you...?"

 _M-Marx! What are you saying...?_

"I-I'll sit here, then..."

 _No, Marx, no!_

"I'll sit and rot here...I'll die right here...for you...and only for you, Kirby..."

 _Marx, d-don't leave_ —

The crying across the door stopped.

A sense of determination erupted within Kirby's being. He wasn't going to let this happen... Not again...

He stood himself up, jumped as high as he could, unlocked the door, and swung it open. He rushed inside to find Marx had already slumped up against the door's frame.

"M...M-Marx?" he mumbled.

No response. It was too late, wasn't it?

The tears returned. More numerous than ever. He would've begged for Nova to resurrect his friend, but he already knew what Nova had done to Marx and what he, subsequently, did to Nova.

And so he begged to his deathly friend instead.

"Marx..." he sobbed. "C-come back..."

No response.

"Please, Marx! Please..." Kirby approached the unmoving corpse. "Don't leave me again, poyo...!"

No response.

"M...Marx?" he whispered again, a look of utter despair on his face.

There was no response. Kirby covered his eyes in sadness and shame.

He had done it again. He had killed Marx again.

He had murdered Marx again. He had murdered Marx again in cold blood...

He had failed. He had failed to save his friend.

"I...I forgive you...Marx..." was the last thing the pink puffball would say — the last thing he could say — before the sweet release of the cold came over him, and he again landed face first on the hardwood floor. After all that he had been through...he at last wanted it all to end. Right here. Where the murderer would, in a twist of fate, realize the pain they had caused and end themselves.

Now...now would be a great time to die...

"That's all I wanted to hear..."

Kirby gasped. He looked up toward Marx. Marx groaned uncomfortably, his large, soft eyes slowly opening, his body shifting itself...

It was nothing more than a faint murmur, barely audible at all. Yet Kirby had heard it. And his heart melted for the third time as he rushed to embrace his armless friend.

When pulled into this hug, Marx was initially confused. But when Kirby's attempt to cry yielded no tears, the rest having already been used, the jester saw it best to pat his friend on the back, to ease the emotional distress.

Neither of them had the slightest clue what they were doing here, who had brought them here, where they were exactly, or why they were here. But at least they won something for each other's sakes. For each other's hearts. And maybe even for everyone else's, too.

And that, at the very least, was a start.


	2. Holding Back for So Long

It should have been annoying to Marx that, in the course of several hours, neither of them had made a single inch of progress in getting out of wherever they were. It didn't help that their potential means of escape were literally right there in front of them, wide open. But he didn't mind in the slightest. He had other things that he preferred dealing with.

Kirby had fallen asleep, clearly exhausted from all that had happened earlier. It looked as though the pink puffball was on the verge of — no; already was crying his heart out. It was rest that the two friends most certainly deserved.

There was something... _mesmerizing_ about the way Kirby slept; the way he breathed in and out, inflating and deflating his soft, balloon-esque body. He looked so peaceful, so cute. Then again, he always looked cute regardless of the situation.

But something just seemed...off. Kirby as a whole had been acting off for the past couple of weeks. He couldn't point his—never mind. He didn't know what had happened, but Kirby as of late had been starting to grow a bit...overemotional? Aggravated? A lot less...well, Kirby-ish. Allegedly, there had been several confrontations that had gone on in Cappy Town, but that wasn't much to go off of; the Cappies were very much gullible to anything that they're told, so confronting the Star Warrior for something he didn't do was something not too out of the ordinary? Had he finally snapped? At this point, only Kirby knew, and he was asleep on the purple jester's lap.

The panic in the puffball's eyes were nothing like Marx had ever seen be emoted from his friend. Had he scared him? Was he still scared of him? What had caused him to forget about everything so quickly yet remember in a moment of agony and desperation? Hasn't he demonstrated that he's back to being the good, faithful Marx that Kirby had always known?

It was moments like this where Marx cursed his lack of any hands, or hand-like equivalents like the stubs Kirby had, because his brain was really starting to hurt trying to piece together everything. And yet, he had no way to rub his head to get the headache to dissipate. He growled.

Maybe it was because he had chosen only recently to come back. He had perhaps waited too long to come back? Maybe that's why Kirby had initially forgotten him. It didn't help that, personality-wise, he had very much changed from the shy jokester of the past.

When he found himself rebirthed from the ashes of Nova, some of the more...unpleasant bits of himself had been extremified, to put it lightly. He had become more self-centered, more egotistical, and perhaps...even more insane. He was already a bit nuts when Kirby and he had met up for the first time, and he had done his best to suppress that feeling, both then and now. But it was never enough. He had been...let's just say... _mistreated_ growing up, and his most cruel plan for vengeance had been formed in the back of his mind once he and Kirby had, at last, reached their destination: the Nova comet. It was here that his best self-regulation mechanisms failed him. Where he had failed. His deepest, darkest, most sadistic desires reigned supreme as he made his wish.

"I want to control Popstar!!" he had said. Marx didn't even recognize that the voice was _his_.

The voice now speaks for him in the back of his mind, saying terrible... _terrible_ things...

"Kirby hates us! When are you going to accept that??"

"We're dead! Dead dead dead dead _dead_!!"

"Look at them all. Look at all these weaklings. Such a shame we couldn't reign over them all. Imagine the...pain we could inflict on them. Just like they've done to you."

"Shut up!" he would always shout back. If someone else were in the room, they would be left confused.

Marx sighed. It was fine. Everything was fine now. Kirby had finally forgiven him, right? He had never flat out said that he accepted his apology before, so it had to mean something...didn't it?

He looked down the drowned out puffball. He smiled. Kirby looked so calm...so sweet. So... _vulnerable_.

He shook his head quickly before looking around. There was nothing. No one here to terrorize them. They were completely isolated. Alone. Trapped together with little chance of anybody else finding him. _A perfect opportunity_.His grin widened.

"Soon, Kirby. Soon you will be mine." he whispered.

As if on queue, Kirby began to stir. Marx hushed himself, and changed his tone to that of a more somber, more comforting voice, clearing his throat in the process. "Poy..." Kirby moaned.

"Hello Kirby..." the jester murmured to the rested Star Warrior. "Did you sleep well?"

Kirby nodded his head, then groaned as he stretched himself as he prepared to stand up. Before standing, though, he looked back at Marx, who had comforted him during his slumber. His eyes, his smile...everything just seemed...blissful. Everything seemed...right. He layed himself down again, starring up at his friend. He put on a weak smile.

"Aren't you gonna get up?" Marx asked.

"...Nah." Kirby said. "I could stay here for days..."

This sort of thing...it only can happened in a dream, couldn't it? Surely, this was a dream... He and Marx, himself snuggled into such a comfortable position, the two of them being so close together — _too_ close together... Marx surely would've called it out as being awkward by now, right? If not that, then he would've certainly felt awkward himself and shift away to prevent any further embarrassment. If this _wasn't_ a dream, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If it was, he wasn't going to be waking up any time soon. He was going to get as much value out this it as he possibly could.

"Oh...M-Marx..." he spoke softly, trying to make the words that came out sound _extra_ cute.

"Yes, Kirby?"

"You know...I...I felt terrible, having...well...thought I've—"

"It's okay! It's okay." Marx said. "I...I understand that I've done a lot wrong. It...it must've been so hard for you, right...?"

"...poy..." the puffball sighed. "It...it was, poyo... B-but that's not what I'm getting at..." He but his lip, and started to rub his face. Why was it getting so... _warm_ all of a sudden? The room was getting deathly cold before, wasn't it? Why was it so hard to just talk?

"Kirby, you're...um...blushing." Marx pointed out, part light-hearted and part-mocking.

"..." Kirby soon blinked, then became an even deeper shade of red and pink. He just wanted to...he just... He couldn't even think straight. He had never felt more embarrassed or ashamed in his life.

Marx playfully decided to toy around with Kirby's strange cesspool of emotion. He leaned in close, to the point where their eyes were nearly touching each other. Kirby's were starting to tear up, and he gasped. "Is there something you want to... _tell me_...Kirby?" He made sure to speak faintly, nearly as faintly as when he was crying his eyes out when he believed that the puffball had abandoned him.

"Po...poyo..." Kirby moaned, his own made-up language from his youth mixing with that of the unspoken words of pleasure. "Marx..."

"Do you...like me, Kirby?" the jester teased.

"Y-yes...?" Kirby didn't know whether it meant as in they were friends or—

"Do you like me... _more_ than as a friend, Kirby...?"

Marx's question hit a bullseye. Kirby squirmed, struggling to let the right words out whilst trying to save himself from further embarrassment. And Marx loved every second of it. He decided after some thinking to let some information of his own slip, knowing it will only further intensify the Star Warrior's internal emotional struggle. "You know..." he began, tilting his head sideways rather than straight down as before. He raised the tips of his shoes and lowered his head, encapsulating the puffball entirely. "...I always had some interests in you."

"...y...you did...?" Kirby panted.

"Why, yes. Of course..." He pressed the side of his face up against Kirby's cheek. It was hot to the touch. "I never said anything about because...well..." He turned again, facing the sweating puffball once more. "...I didn't know how you'd think of it... Would you have accepted it? Would it have been...awkward?"

Kirby was breathless. He was taking many, many short breaths yet could not adequately replenish his oxygen supply. His eyes were already leaking and itching. If he didn't act soon, he'd surely faint... Come on, just _do it_ already you cowardly fool...

Marx then purred. He purred on Kirby's cheek. It was, frankly, perhaps a bit too ridiculous on his part, but like all actions preceding it, it had achieved its desired effect. Marx was looking forward to the release almost to the same extent as Kirby desperately was.

"Do you love anyone, Kirby?" the purple jester asked. He then spoke even quieter than before, feeling one of Kirby's salty tears run down his face, closing his eyes as he said, "...Do you love _me_...Kirby...?"

Not even a second later, Kirby had closed the gap between their lips without even a flinch. It was even better than Marx had been expecting, his own body heating up as what felt like fireworks exploded in his mind while their tounges played with each other. Kirby was sloppy, but so was he; neither had ever kissed anyone before as neither really had much of a romantic relationship before. But it was still perfect. Perfect harmony in every way.

In the meantime, Kirby's being melted before his best friend, the tears of joy streaking down his face without restriction, his intense blush not fading away, his immense passion in full force. He hadn't admitted it until now, but the puffball had always had a semblance of a crush on Marx. He slowly had started to appear in Kirby's dreams more and more since the day they first met, initially as little perversions he kept to himself before he could dream of little else regarding his best friend until...until... Until _when_?? It didn't matter! His deepest desires were at last being realized! Not only had Marx returned to his life, but now here they were, kissing like lovers. Why did he only admit these feeling _now_ instead of _then_?? What was he thinking??

The two stayed this way, orally interlocked with one another, for minutes on end, only breaking to take the occasional deep breath, with Marx sometimes gasping, "Kirby..." before continuing. When at last they finished this display of pure, unbridled love, they separated slowly, reluctantly. Neither wanted the bliss to end. Kirby, again, found himself thoroughly exhausted from the experience. Marx was not as tired but was still visibly shaken from what had happened. Both were panting.

"Marx..." Kirby sighed. "D...did you..."

"I already told you, Kirby..." Marx murmured. "I'd die for you...and only you..."

With that statement, Kirby froze before fainting, collapsing again to the ground. Okay...maybe Marx had gone a little too far with his teasing...

But that experience...that moment of raw bondage between the two of them...oh, he could kill to experience such a thing again. Everything inside him was desperately screaming for Kirby, that he'd wake up and continue that amazing kiss. Ah well.

When Kirby wakes up, they'll have more pertinent things to deal with, now that they had jumped off one of the extremes. It was time to get back on track. Or on the track at all, that is. They were still in square one; no progress in escaping.

But that didn't matter. Not now. Now all that mattered was Kirby... Soft, cute Kirby...

Marx fell asleep.


	3. Doesn't Fit Your Character

**_Before we begin, something a little different than usual: review responses!_**

 ** _StrawberryCatclaws ~ Good to see you're satisfied._**

 ** _EveningEmerald ~ ...true that. True that, indeed. And yes, of course I'm continuing this — hence this next chapter._**

 ** _And now for something completely different...not really. It's back to the story. Enjoy:_**

Kirby didn't know how much time has elapsed since he had passed out. He didn't care how much time had elapsed since he had passed out. He was already feeling breathless.

That last dream...it was a culmination of every one of his deepest fantasies. He and Marx had...kissed. Passionately. Not stopping until all of their strength had been drained. He hadn't had a dream so vivid...so real in for a long time. Every small movement, every miniscule action, every tear or ball of sweat, and every emotion at every given moment in time within that dream felt...real. To the point of potentially even being scary.

Kirby blushed. He had such a perverted mind. Having grown up alongside two children for much of his life, he had experienced much of what they experienced as the years wore on and their interests changed. He specifically remembered a moment when Tuff — no, wait... _Theodore_. Kirby almost forgot that he thought that name, despite its sophisticated etymology and high-profile stature, made the boy sound cool. "Think of all those musicians with those catchy single names!" he'd say. "Would any of them really want to call themselves _Tuff_? Or _Bun_? More like bum, if you ask me!"

Tiff would roll her eyes in annoyance while Kirby would laugh at how ridiculous he was, yet still approve nonetheless. And Marx would—

Wait! Marx? Was he still...?

Kirby turned around in a swift, deft maneuver, a sense of panic overcoming him. He was awake, standing next to the door, leaning up against it. "Took 'ya long enough to get up." he said.

"Heh heh..." Kirby chuckled lightly to himself. He was very much the definition of a deep sleeper. "So...are we good about, you know—"

"Geez, can you shut up about this, already?" Marx interrupted, disgruntled. "We both said sorry already, okay? Let it go, Kirby!"

"I did! I do!" Kirby said.

Marx raised an eyebrow. "Do you remember last night?" he asked.

"Why is that important?" Kirby raised his own question. "I closed your door out of here when I shouldn't have. Then I cried over to you. What are you getting at, poyo?"

Marx grinned. He grinned widely. He shouldn't be grinning; Kirby had assumed their little encounter before the two of them dozed off...didn't happen? But this played well for him. Either he could use it as blackmail or, more nefarious lt and much more satisfying, he would do as he had done before; tickle his romantic feelings toward him until he couldn't take the pressure anymore. It was a feeling Marx looked forward to experiencing again — one that he'd be willing to yearn for.

"I...I dreamt of _you_ , last night..." Kirby admitted. Marx seemed to light up with glee with that response.

He decided to play along...for now. "I too had a dream with myself in it." Marx joked. Kirby snickered a little bit afterwards. "But being...serious and all that..." He approached Kirby...slowly. The puffball started considering whether he should walk away, but ultimately decided not to once Marx spoke up again.

"I did...dream about you, too, Kirby." he spoke. "Let's just say it would've been...something you'd enjoy..."

The closer he approached Kirby, the redder the pink puffball became. He was clearly embarrassed about _something_. Something Marx already knew. Something he would only get Kirby to admit on his own.

"What was in your dream, Kirby?" Marx said looking straight at him.

"Uh..." Kirby started backing away. This wasn't the type of conversation he'd deem comfortable. "I...I don't wanna say—"

"But...we _always_ shared our dreams with each other, Kirby..." Marx egged him on, making sure he sounded somewhat sad. He already knew the irony of the comment he made, but continued on anyways, "We'd be...sitting outside, laughing, talking...having fun...then you'd ask somethin' like, 'Hey, Marx! What did 'ya dream about?'

"I'd say, 'That King Dedede would stop stealing my ball! That's what!' We'd...laugh together...lay down under the shade of those trees and I'd say...'What about you?'"

He stopped talking right there. Kirby realized that it was his moment to complete the story, to finish the memory — to tell him what he dreamed about. "I'd — poy?" He was interrupted because he had run into wall opposite of the door. He tried shifting away along the wall, but something inside him refused to let him move.

Marx, now directly in front of him, leaned in toward Kirby's left, as if there was an ear there. He grazed the puffball's cheek along the way, leaving Kirby to do his best to conceal his deep excitement.

"What did you say, Kirby...?" Marx whispered. Kirby gulped.

He then sudddenly thought of a way out without compromising too many details. He remembered having given this answer before...it was during the last time they ever spoke of their dreams and desires with each other. The last time before Marx got corrupted by Nova. As such, it didn't make it any easier to say — heck, he thought, revealing what he _had_ been dreaming all this time would be easier than reciting _this_...

But alas, he had no other options. "I...I said..." he began. "'I dreamed of our...connection, M-Marx. Of...everything that has happened lately, poyo... I, um... I don't want this to end. I don't want any of this to end, poyo...'" He was whimpering by the end of it.

Marx finally backed off, his prodding finished for the time being, stepping a few steps away from the puffball, but remaining in front of him. Although this wasn't what he _wanted_ Kirby to admit, it was a response he had expected and was satisfied with all the same. At least he put some _effort_ into covering himself up, and a pretty good one at that. "Alright. That's all I needed to hear." he said, followed by Kirby visibly being overwhelmed with relief.

"But in the meantime..." he continued. "...we still need to find our way out of here. We've already used up a lot of time...I think." Truth be told, Marx had only been assuming that today had been the day after he and Kirby first woke up in this cell of a room. He had no reference to go off of; there were no windows where sunlight could sneak in, no clocks ticking on the wall...just nothing. It didn't help that he had an inconsistent sleep schedule, so the internal clock governing his sleep had no frame of reference of which to tell time, either.

Kirby had nearly forgotten that they were kidnapped to begin with, with the enclosed room being the only reminder of the situation they were really in. He nodded in agreement. It was high time that they got their things together, come up with a plan, and get out of there. "Y-yeah. You're right." he said before dashing towards the open passageway. "Let's go, poyo."

"Right! After you!" Marx responded, quickly following suit.

He soon ran into the puffball, who had slowed his pace significantly after having stepped a bit further into the hallway beyond their room. It looked...eerily familiar: the cobblestone texturing of the walls and ceiling, the place lit with torches, and the floor made of concrete with the occasional crack to not step on. This hall clearly had a vastly different architectural style and design compared to that of the room they had just came from. It didn't help that the door had shut behind them, startling the both of them.

The two snuck forward cautiously, past the sounds of leaking rainwater or groundwater dripping onto the floor; past the unsettling ambience that surrounded them; past the plethora of similar doors, except, looks-wise, they clearly belonged here. Beyond the bars on the top of each door separating the hallway and cells, there was nothing but blackness, obfuscating anything or anyone inside them. Marx looked over to Kirby, who was visibly a bit...scared of the whole motif of this place.

After what felt like ages, the two had reached a junction — a large, circular room where six separate paths converged, with a spiral stairwell on one side leading to an upper level. Unlike the path they had taken, there seemed to not be any lighting, and this appeared as the innards of the cells before them: complete darkness.

Marx turned to Kirby. "This place is freaky..." he commented. "And long. _Far_ too long."

When looking around the new room, Kirby stopped in his tracks when his eye caught sight of something. Something that made him extremely angry. Marx would've been confused and asked what was going on if he hadn't noticed it around the same time. On the wall was located an insignia. A very...familiar insignia. The insignia of—

"King Dedede??" Marx said, puzzled. "What reason would he have to—" He stopped short as Kirby, filled with a new, sudden burst of rage, dashed his way toward the stairs and started swiftly climbing up them. "Wait, Kirby!"

"Stupid Dedede! He's always doing things like this, but _now_ he's gone too far, poyo!" the Star Warrior exclaimed. This is why he recognized this place; it was Dedede's Dungeon of unDeeds; the dungeon beneath his castle. He was, quite familiar with Dedede's antics by now — especially those when relating to himself. They've been decent friends since Nightmare had been destroyed, but the penguin King had never stopped his prior habit of pranking the unsuspecting puff in the meanest ways possible, whether it be out of jealousy, ignorance, idiocy, or an unfounded fear that Kirby, as powerful as he was, would usurp his throne. That last claim was utterly ridiculous; Kirby had neither the desire not expertise to govern a state, legitimate or not. _This_ prank, though... Oh, sweet vengeance would be his soon...

Except...not really. Upon reaching the top of the stairs leading to the base floor of a tower, Kirby was shocked to realize that, instead of entering one of the corridors within Dedede's castle, he had arrived at...his own living room? His mind quickly calmed itself down as a new state of dread and confusion took over. This...this didn't make any sense! How is this even possible? Did someone really have _that much_ time on their hands whilst abducting the two of them?

Upon catching up to the puffball, Marx started looking around. "Kirby...why are we at your house?" he asked.

"I don't know, poyo!" Kirby yelled back, nearly knocking Marx over with the sudden raised amplitude of his voice.

"Geez, Kirby!" Marx said, disgruntled. "What was _that_ for?"

"I don't know! Nothing makes any sense!" he began to panic, starting to pace all over the place and speak very quickly. "I don't know where we are, I don't know where to go, I don't know why we're here — I'm lost, poyo!! I...wh _-WHO'S doing this to us??_ " he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Who?? And _why_??"

"K-Kirby, you need to calm down—"

"Calm down?? Poy, you can't _calm down_ in a situation like this! We're trapped in some collection of a bunch of random places! And while we're down here, someone might be causing a ruckus in a Dreamland or...or..."

"Kirby! Shut up! This...this isn't like you!"

The puffball looked up at his friend. "Wha—?"

"If anyone were to be panicking about everything going on, it would be _me_! I mean..." Marx paused to gather his thoughts. "You, even when you first started on all your adventures 'n things, were always the calm, collected one. Sure, you were easily distracted, but that didn't matter! You were always focused on the end goal at hand...and I always found it, well...fascinating..." He descended into his inner thoughts for a second. "I always looked up to you both as a friend and...as a role model of sorts. I mean, you're cute...likable, yet at the same time you're...determined and, um...pragmatic." He chuckled to himself before he continued on to his point. "But...something's changed, Kirby... Lately you have been...angrier...and more..."

"More what?"

"Gritty! Edgy, dark, whatever you want to call it! And I don't understand why, and it seems you don't either. It doesn't fit your character and...and, it's...it's tearing you apart, Kirby! It's been tearing all of us apart..."

Marx didn't know what would happen next. He thought that Kirby might get all defensive, denying much of his behavior as of late. He thought he might've made Kirby even angrier and try to beat him up in attempt to shut him up. He thought Kirby might get all apologetic and crumble to pieces in front of him. Instead, Kirby just stood there...as if realizing the gravity of what he had been told.

Once instance of what Marx perceived as a darker shift of Kirby's personality came just the week before. The whole gang was there, himself, Kirby, Dedede, and others, all in a field playing some games for the sake of playing them. It was always a lot of fun, playing games with Kirby, they all said...until that day. Out of nowhere, from the blue, on that one particular day, Kirby just flat-out wasn't in the mood of playing...anything — a quite unprecedented phenomenon, indeed.

"C'mon, Kirby!" the King would egg him on. "We're all up to a game of truth or dare, so join in!" He patted a spot on the ground to signify where the puffball would be sitting; besides him, of course. Both because...well, he was the king, only wanting the most elite of celebrities beside him, and to keep a watchful eye on this potential throne usurper.

"I...I don't know, poyo..." Kirby struggled. "Don't any of you think that this is...a bit childish?"

Everyone raised their eyebrows in response. "Childish?" asked Tiffany, one of the people in the group.

"Kirby, we do these things with you to have fun and unwind, be friends and all that." his mentor, Meta Knight, responded. "There's nothing childish about this."

"W-well then maybe I don't feel like playing these sorts of games right now, then!" Kirby swiftly retorted, doing his best to keep a dangerous balance of not playing around and not disappointing or insulting his friends.

"Kirby, I'm pretty shure that's not the case." Tuf— _Theodore_ said. What was _with_ that name, honestly. "You haven't been super enthusiastic about hanging out, recently."

"Yes I have, poyo!"

"No. You haven't." Marx remembered saying. "You don't look so motivated anymore, as if you were just auto-piloting through everything, like trying to just get it over with nothing else."

"Even _Dedede_ is starting to beat you at your favorite games, Kirby!" Bandana Dee poined out.

"Hey!" the king responded, clearly annoyed by that comment, before realizing it did actually highlight the point. He hushed himself before continuing.

"Kirby, is something going on?" Tiffany asked.

"Yeah, is there?"

As everybody started gathering around him demanding an explanation, Kirby was starting to visibly look stressed out. He ran off in a panic, leaving everyone confused over what had just happened. Some chased after him. Others did not. Marx remembered glancing over at Meta Knight, his eyes narrowed, looking straight in the direction Kirby ran off to even after losing sight of him.

"...So..." Marx asked. "You know what's going on?"

"No." Meta Knight responded. "But I will soon enough."

Returning to reality, Marx found Kirby still standing completely still. He looked around where they had found themselves in, noticing several key differences between this place and Kirby's house...besides the obvious, that is. "Popstar to Kirby! Hello??"

Kirby blinked, as if he had snapped out of a trance. "Wh...what?" he whispered.

"This place isn't really a replica of your house." Marx told the puffball. "I mean...when did your house have all these rooms?"

Marx was right; this place, much like downstairs, had multiple paths leading to various other locations. Unlike Kirby's compact house, this house seemed a lot more formal, complete with a dedicated dining area, kitchen, and—

"The exit!" Kirby noticed. The exit door was still in its usual spot! Finally, they could get out of here! Trying to open the door, however, didn't work; it refused to budge. He turned around, still somewhat diligent. "Well...not to worry, poyo! We could go out one of the windows, couldn't we?"

"I...don't think that's a good idea." Marx commented, his eyes pointing to and head leaning toward one of the Windows, in the usual spot on the wall. Outside it, however, was yet more endless blackness. The same could be said for the other Windows as well.

Sorrow soon began to engulf Kirby, and despite being in a larger space than the cell they had come from, he started to feel claustrophobic. As far as he was concerned, there was was no way out of there for the either of them. "We...we'll find a way out of here..." he laughed. "Y-yeah. We'll find a way out of here. We'll find a way out of here!" He sat down, rocking back forth in place. "We'll find a way out of here!"

"Um...are you alright?" Marx asked.

"Y-yeah? Kirby? Oh, he's _great_ , poyo! He's wonderful! He'll find a way out of here!"

Marx rolled his eyes. Great. he thought. He's lost his mind.

"Yeah! Lost my mind, poyo! Lost my mind, poyo!" Kirby continued cackling to himself.

Marx, on the other hand, was visibly stunned. He hadn't _said_ anything aloud, so...how did he—?

Nah. It didn't matter. They needed to keep finding their way out of here.

"We-we'll find our way out of here!" Kirby screeched.


	4. Tell Me, Is it Just a Dream?

**_And now to continue with reviewer replies:_**

 **Oh no ( guest) _~ I do pride myself with my paragraph transitions and descriptive language...because I've had to write countless essays in ELA about how various authors' descriptions of things evoke a particular response from someone. For example, the sophisticated word choice (or_ diction _) in the above paragraph was chosen to convey that I'm competant in my writing skills and am a smart person. You're welcome._**

 ** _And now, back to some Kirby, though I should note that the tone in this chapter is much different to that of the others. Well, tbh, every chapter's tone is unique thus far, so whatever._**

 ** _Enjoy._**

Marx had been wandering around the (for lack of a better term) mutation of Kirby's household since the puffball had straight up lost it. The more he looked around though, the less sense could be made about everything. If their mysterious captor was trying to mimic the familiar sights that Kirby had been to, then they should at least be trying to get each chamber to resemble what it should and what it represented down to the finest detail. Yet, despite the two styles of room downstairs being straight on eerie and creepy, up here things weren't quite right.

Marx had obviously lived with Kirby a lot, but he had only been to his house once in recent memory. It was like a child's room, cluttered, somewhat disorganized, yet order was somehow found within the chaos. Things of similar stature were found in the same general location, not limited to a stash of candies underneath a cabinet that Marx had kept to himself before the Sun and Moon incident. He had been delighted to find that it was still there after years of absence without Kirby having even taken a single thing out of it. But this house seemed orderly...everything in its location without the disarray. Needless to say, it was odd.

There were two bedrooms, which, compared to Kirby's normal house essentially being a bedroom with a roof and chimney, was easily the most remarkable difference. One of them was clearly a guest room, whilst the other, the master, had a bed just large enough to fit two or three people. The large window gave him ample view of the surreal, never ending darkness that surrounded them. Beside it was a closet, containing various things from the most innocent, such as some of Kirby's old playthings, to the awkward, such as plenty of replacement garments for Marx, from hat to shoes. Why these things were in the same closet, Marx hadn't a clue.

He continued searching every nook cranny he could think of for an exit or anything that could allow them to escape, but none was ever found, leaving the armless jester frantically searching everywhere by himself. This left time for him to think with himself.

"You know..." he heard someone whisper. "with Kirby in his sterile state, it wouldn't be so hard to...kill him, would it?"

Marx bashed his head on one of the walls. "Wha-? No! We aren't gonna kill Kirby! Never!" He turned around, continuing his search.

A short moment later, the voice returned, much more sinister in its tone attitude. "I know you miss the feeling, Marx." it said.

Marx raised an eyebrow. "What're you getting on about?"

"You miss the thrill of killing, Marx. The thrill of watching one beg as they slowly die at your hand. You miss the power...the _excitement._ " Marx began to sweat a little. "Ah...so I was right—"

"No!" Marx yelled out. "I'm done being a murderer! I'm done hating Kirby! I'm done wanting to control Popstar! Things have changed! _I've_ changed!"

"You haven't! You lie!" the voice claimed. "Kirby is still the paperweight to your ticket to power beyond compare as you are to me. To us! The true us, Marx!!"

Marx felt a strange slithering coming from his rear. He turned in horror to find that there were multiple tails, each colored gold and tipped with a sharp point, struggling to break free from...something. From _him_.

When he fell back down to Popstar following his fight with Kirby, much of the superpowers he had gained, although significantly weakened, were still there. It was there, after waking up aching with pain, feeling as though he was on the verge of death, he realized just how much of a monster he had become. This is why he hid. This is why he didn't return to Kirby right away; he needed to tame the monster — the demon beast — that he had become. He had done so well to contain himself that he had nearly forgotten that he had these things to begin with. He had—

A chill ran down his spine as someone grabbed him. It was the kidnapper! He shrieked, leaping away from where he was struggling before turning to face his—

There was no one there. Then who...?

The voice cackled in an insane fit of laughter. "Pathetic! Have you forgotten the greatest gift we've received?"

Marx pondered for a minute, resting his head on the palm of his hand to think. What could...wait a minute. He looked down and he wanted to scream, yet couldn't. It was, indeed, a hand. But not a hand like he would've imagined himself having. He pictured himself having stubs like Kirby did, but these were claws, though it seemed as though he had trimmed them in the past. Still, it didn't help that he was terrified beyond relief.

The jester layed on the floor, curled up into a little ball, shaking. "Wh...what do you want from me?"

"I don't want something from _you_." Marx this time didn't just hear the voice. This time he _felt_ it. He actually felt his lips moving, saying these words for the first time in a long time, though in truth it had been speaking throughout this entire conversation. "I...want something from _us_..."

He sniffled, his eyes starting to tear up from the terror he was experiencing. "...You want me to kill Kirby, right...?"

"Perhaps so...perhaps not. You haven't forgot our ambitions? Our intent when we took over this planet?" it — he — asked himself. "Or have you forgotten that, too?"

"I...haven't..." Marx groaned as he felt his muscles start to grow numb, his insanity starting to take control.

"Then you are mistaken!" he responded.

The claws now started to grasp his neck, as if to choke out whatever control Marx had left along with his life. "N...no... I...won't let you..."

"But you already have. You claim to be struggling, so then why did you allow me to stay with you all this time? Why did you allow me the means to take control of us on multiple occasions?"

"I know...what you are..." he choked, the tears leaking out of his eyes, tightly being kept shut. "You...you will destroy everything..."

"Then stop crying and stop me. But then again, you'd have to be crying to begin with. Open your eyes, fool!"

The jester slowly allowed his eyelids to open up. He wished he didn't. The demon beast had moved him to a mirror, to see what he had been turned into. His hat was torn, as was the shirt he was wearing. His face and bodied were nearly unrecognizable, especially his eyes, which more resembled black holes than they did eyes, poring blood down his face and features. He wore wore an evil, wicked smile on his face, with plenty of sharp teeth visible.

He tried to scream for Kirby. For help. But he couldn't scream anymore. He was no longer Marx. This _thing_ had become Marx...and yet, taking a good look at himself, he couldn't stop himself from laughing like a maniac.

"Oh, this is going to be _fun_!!!" he spoke. He loved the demonic nature of his voice, the feeling of his hands, the scary feeling one is instilled with upon seeing him for the first time. Oh, he had been so stupid! How could he _hate_ this thing? This...feeling? The insanity that coursed through his veins — his strength! And then he reminded himself who was to blame for his...irrational fear of this wonderous being that was himself — his _TRUE_ self!!

"It's been...so long since I've played around with _Kirby_...hasn't it..." he told himself in the mirror, the reflection nodding in approval. "Surely _we_ can't be the only one here having fun, can we? Kirby...he's the epitome of child-like fun! He'll _love_ what we will do to him..."

With one last cackling, he headed back towards the central living room where Kirby had been when Marx had left in search of...what, exactly? Who knew? Who cares! Look at him, there! Just rocking back and forth, mumbling nonsense to himself! The puffball was in such a vulnerable state that he could just kill him then and there without his adversary even flinching!

But no. That wouldn't do. Kirby needed to die a more...satisfying death. A death that satisfied his killer. A long, painful death fitting for the one that had caused Marx such pain himself.

The puffball didn't even notice Marx approach him, who had opted to hide his more... _obvious_ features behind himself. He wanted to draw this out for as long as possible.

"Ha _ha_!" he heard Kirby chuckle to himself. "M-Marx'll find the way out! _He'll_ find the way out of here!"

For a second, Marx did allow a moment of pity for the Star Warrior. He had gone through so much...yet here he had fallen so far. And now he would die so painfully...

"Y-yes! Die! Die, Kirby, die! Ha! Poyo! Ha- _ha-ha-ha_!!"

Uh, okay. This was getting strange. How did he— it doesn't matter!

"No-no it doesn't, poyo!"

"SHUT UP!!" Marx yelled.

Kirby very suddenly and very quickly turned toward his friend, the latter swearing he had something break when he did so. "M-Marx!" he mumbled. "Have you found the way out??"

"...I believe so, Kirby."

"Lying, Marx! You lying to Kirby, poyo!"

"No, I'm not. C'mon, you should trust me by now..."

"Y-yes! Kirby should trust you, poyo!"

"Right...so come over here." Marx wooed, backing away towards the hall which led to the bedrooms.

Kirby, changing his directions almost on a whim, followed in pursuit, but Marx was nowhere to be found. "Marx! Kirby no find poyo! Ha!"

"I'm here!" he yelled. Kirby heard the voice coming from the second room down the hall on the left — the guest room. Upon entering the small room, the door was shut behind him, yet he didn't seem phased at all. "Wow! Is just like Kirby's house!"

There was no response. He looked around, turning his head quickly and with no discernible pattern, trying to find his friend. "Where did Marx go, poyo?"

"Oh...I'm right here..."

Kirby flinched as he felt something pierce his right stub. He looked straight at it, noticing that there now was a large hole, blood dripping from it, cut by a familiar golden line. The puffball's heart skipped a beat as his train of thought and sanity suddenly righted themselves. The pain...oh, it stung so much...

He yelped as another pierced his left stub and two more stabbed through his feet. He was left breathless, gasping for breath as the sharp pain made him whimper. He felt like gagging. But the sight in front of him nearly made him throw up.

"M...M-Marx..." he cried.

Kirby was then thrown up against the wall, still attached to these metallic chains by this monster. He groaned when he impacted the wall, pain shooting through his back to every part of his body.

Marx, sadistic grin and all, approached his victim with glee, eying him over as though he were a purchased slave. Kirby had very much become a slave, a torture slave to this maniac, in less than a second, and he couldn't help but cry as all the trust and love he had put in Marx was proven wrong in an instant.

"Oh, Kirby..." Marx taunted. "You want your _buddy_ to come back? To come and save you? Well...here's a news flash: I never was your friend, and now...it is time that I teach you that lesson."

Marx reached behind him, grasping what appeared to be a small dagger. Before he did anything else, he starred at the puffball one last time, to enjoy his suffering. To watch the blood leak out of where his four leads were keeping his victim stuck against the wall of the room.

At last, he approached Kirby again. "You and I, Kirby...we have done so much together..." He pinched Kirby's cheek. "We lived together...we fought together...heh heh..." He chuckled as he remembered it. "We even _loved_ together..."

"...so it wasn't a dream...?" Kirby whimpered.

"No, of course it wasn't a dream! It was real! All of it! And...we enjoyed every...single...second of it, didn't we...?"

Kirby closed his eyes in terror. No, no, no! This...this couldn't be—

"Every time I tried to break away or talk during our...passionate kiss, you just smacked our lips back together. You were..." He laughed. " _desparate_ to tell me how much you loved me, weren't you?"

He wanted to say no. Kirby really wanted to say no. But he couldn't. There was no denying what had happened. Flinching slightly and shaking nervously, he slowly nodded, his eyes still kept shut.

"Oh...and you're _still_ blushing." Both he and Kirby could feel the latter's cheeks start to grow warm. "After all that I have done here to you...after pulling out...this here knife...you _still_ have this animalistic instinct within you that loves me. How cute."

Kirby started shaking his head frantically. No no no no—

"Then perhaps I should...satisfy some of your desires first, shall I?" Marx said before forcing his mouth upon Kirby's. The feeling this time wasn't that of a long-awaited dream coming true, but that of a nightmare come to life. A nightmare that Kirby hadn't ever even thought about. As Marx's tounge sloshed around in his victim's mouth, establishing exactly who was in the bargaining position of this ordeal, said victim was desperately trying to pull away, to escape this tyranny. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was truly trapped, with no way out. Why did he have to regain his sense of thought then and there? If he was still delirious, these thoughts wouldn't be entering his mind. He probably wouldn't be giving a care in the world about however Marx intended to torture him. He'd be detached from reality, after all. But here he was, fully aware of what was being done to him. He choked in agony.

Once Marx pulled away after what felt like hours, he was left a panting mess of tears, sweat, and blood. Marx took a deep breath, he himself perhaps having acted a little too unrestrained. As much as he called Kirby's love toward him primitive and unworthy, he secretly couldn't deny his own passion toward the pink puffball, either. But Kirby didn't need to know of the irony. He was surely on the brink of being broken, if not already past that point. If anything, it only helped. He would both be inflicting terror upon his victim whilst, simultaneously, getting his own fair share of pleasure. It was so selfish...so much like him.

"Heh..." he breathed, his attachments pinning Kirby in place even wavering in satisfaction. "So this is what the great Hero of Dreamland has been reduced to?" Kirby couldn't even speak any words in response. He could only sob to himself. "Not that I can blame you. You were so eager...so desparate for closure, weren't you? But why?"

"M...Marx...please...no more..." Kirby moaned.

"But Kirby..." he leaned in closer. "You know deep in your mind that I'm not finished with you; that you have no chance of escaping my grasp. Not this time." He pulled out the dagger again, holding it up right next to Kirby's face. "Let's play, shall we? I heard you used to love playing games, but one day called them...I don't know...childish? Well, hopefully this game suits your tastes a bit more."

"Marx, stop..." Kirby begged and begged, but his requests would not be heeded. Marx hushed him with his finger.

"You see, Kirby...the rules are simple. I ask a question, you answer it, and I'll act based on your response." he explained. Given the positioning of the knife, Kirby could easily understand what he meant by _act based on your response_. "Got it? Alright. First question: how long have you been having these...dreams about me?"

"..." Kirby tried to answer, but lacked the words or will to say anything. Why was he being so self-restraining? So resilient? This would not do.

"Hm. That's not an answer." Marx spoke coldly. However, against the captive's expectations, he didn't straight up stab him hard and deep. He instead sliced off a small bit into Kirby's skin, just deep enough for him to yelp in pain, but no deeper.

This didn't really provide any relief toward the situation at hand, and Kirby, breathing in and out in a panic from what he had built up to be a very painful wrong answer. Blood soon started spilling out of this new wound, down his round body.

"Provide me with an inadequate answer again, Kirby, and I won't give you any more mercy." Marx explained, grinning. "So I'll ask again; for _how_ _long_ have you been dreaming about me?"

Kirby slowed down his breathing in order to actually produce an audible response. Quietly, he said, "F...for a long time. Not long after we first met."

"Hm. Was I that great of a charmer that I wooed the almighty Kirby of the Stars?" Marx continued to exert his dominant position, but inexplicably his patience grew thin. "That was a question, Kirby, now answer it!"

In his blind rage, Marx's knife struck far deeper than his more calm, calculated cut from not too long ago. Kirby screeched once it struck before quickly answering, "Yes! Yes! You did! Pl-please don't strike me again!"

"Then why did you not resist?" Marx yelled, continuing to stab his victim with each question without even giving time for an answer. "Why did you just _stand_ there when I first impaled you?? Are you not trained to fight back?? Do you love me _that much_??"

"Y-yes!" the puffball cried out.

"Then...th-th..." Marx suddenly started to struggle. Something started to feel wrong. _Really_ wrong. There was a burning sensation in his forehead and an aching in his heart. Wait...he _had_ one?? When?? Why?? What was—

Kirby heard the demon gasp when he suddenly started...crying? "Why...why didn't you let me know sooner, Kirby?" it said.

Out of nowhere, the spikes were gone, the maniacal look of the jester's eyes had disappeared, and he suddenly seemed...back to normal. All that remained were his hands, whose claws now more clearly resembled fingers, and the knife, no longer digging into the puffball's flesh. Kirby himself was suddenly standing, as though he were never mounted up on the wall, but all of the wounds were still present, still bleeding. His salty tears stung the blood that was leaking out, but that didn't really matter too much. He was starting to feel very...cold. And tired.

He sighed deeply and said, "I...I was scared, poyo... I didn't think you would...accept it...or me...if I said anything..."

Marx looked up at his friend, and what he had just done to his friend. He just looked at Kirby, a blank expression on his face, before turning to the knife still in his hand. "I...I'm sorry, Kirby..."

"Marx, what're you—"

"I-I can't live with what I am...what I've turned into..."

"M-Marx! Wait!"

"I-I've caused you so much pain...so much humiliation...so much sadness... It's tearing me apart. I can't afford to put you in danger..."

He raised the dagger, now pointed at himself rather than at Kirby, whose eyes now widened in realization of what he was going to do next.

"Poyo, no!" Kirby yelled. He leapt toward his friend, but it was too late. The blade had already pierced straight through him, with Kirby landing face-first into the ground. He had to knock the knife out of Marx's hand, but his sudden drowsiness had made him leap with the wrong angle, landing beside his friend.

Marx gasped and coughed out blood, saying nothing as he, too, found his way to the ground. With a thud, he didn't move again.

The shock and horror started to kick in again, Kirby's mind doing its best to convince itself to calm down.

This couldn't've just happened... This didn't happen...

This isn't real...

This was insanity, surely.

Maybe this was just a bad dream... A nightmare.

He'll wake up in his bed as though nothing had happened...

But had he fallen asleep in his bed? No. He hadn't. Where would he wake up then?

So many questions. So little time. The sensation of sweet relief kicked in, and Kirby embraced it fully. In reality, he had lost too much blood.

His eyes shut themselves.

Suddenly, a clock strikes 7. AM or PM? Who knew? And Kirby was suddenly awake. Ah, so it _had_ been just a dream?

Or was it?

 ** _Confused? Me, too._**

 ** _But that doesn't matter. The point is that this isn't the end of the story; it is the end of the beginning._**

 **TBC next chapter**


	5. It Was Real After All

**_Welcome back. Review replies are in order:_**

 ** _Nobody (you jerks) (_** ** _jk lol)_**

 ** _Now back to the_** ** _story. Enjoy._**

Kirby woke up to the sound of the clock striking seven. He had awoken from a terrible dream, a nightmare where his friend had turned into a hellish monster. But Kirby knew it to be a nightmare. Marx was a kind, gentle soul, slumbering gracefully beside him in the bed they had shared since they had found themselves trapped in this strange labrynth-esque structure. The clock on the wall served as the only time reference, suggesting they had been stuck here for about a week so far.

Kirby groaned as he stretched his little arms out before sitting up and getting ready for whatever they would encounter today. He looked over at Marx, snuggled up so peacefully. So comfortably. He couldn't help but smile a little. He was Kirby's little beacon of hope in this almost hopeless situation, as they had been to each other for years now.

The puffball had wanted to profess his love to the purple jester for a long while now, but always struggled with the wording. Sure, it would likely sound weird given they were in an escape situation, but his best friend — his true love — would surely understand. With each attempt Kirby made to tease that he might be interested in Marx, the jester happily played along, toying with the puffball so well he nearly spilled the beans multiple times. But this would be it: a culmination of all of his hard work! The two would finally be together forever happy!

Kirby heard his friend, but it wasn't the sound of him waking up. It was a raspy sort of breathing, the kind that happened when you were desperate. When you were saddened. He was clenching the bedsheets tighter and tighter, as if holding on to something. He was having a nightmare!

"Marx!" Kirby called. "Marx!!" He tried shaking his friend awake, but the jester didn't comply. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse, with him starting to talk in a quiet, depressing tone.

"D-don't leave me, Kirby..."

"Huh?" What was going on in that dream??

"We all care about you, Kirby... Don't leave us..." His voice was getting louder and louder. More and more desperate. But why?

"Please, Kirby!!" he was yelling now. "Don't leave me behind!!"

"MARX!!"

Marx gasped a deep breath, immediately sitting up, looking around to see where he was. He very quickly remembered before turning to Kirby. "...H-hi..."

"Poyo."

"I...I had another nightmare..."

"About what?" Kirby scooted in next to his trembling purple friend.

"It...it was short, b-but oh so torturous..." Marx whimpered. "You had...r-run away from everyone, and when we found you...y-you were dead... Or I think you were..."

"Don't worry, poyo. You know I'm always here for you." Kirby leaned in next to the jester, who seemed to be somewhat calmed by this gesture.

"You're a kind soul, Kirby..."

"I try to be, poy."

"You are, though, aren't you?"

"I-I guess."

"You _guess_? What's that supposed to mean?"

"N-nothing." Kirby said, his eyes drooping. "You wouldn't want to know..."

"C'mon, Kirby..." Marx playfully pinched Kirby's cheek. "What did you do?"

"Nnnnn" the puffball refused.

Marx snickered. "Don't worry about it." he said. "I'm just pinching your cheek."

"Huh?"

"Making fun. Idioms, much?"

"Well, you do look like the kind of person that would make fun, poyo."

"Yeah. I guess..." He trailed off. The room went silent. Kirby smiled, thinking his friend now felt better. That conclusion wasn't entirely wrong, mind you.

Seeing how the two usually exchanged each other's fantasies from previous nights as a regular pass time, Marx, instinctively, asked, "So...what did _you_ dream about?"

Kirby froze. He had just calmed Marx down from a nightmare, so he didn't want him to worry much about his own. Still, he would feel guilty if he lied about it. What was he getting so worked up over? It was just a nightmare! He had literally defeated the lord of all nightmares himself!

But something felt off. Something felt wrong. Wherever or whenever they were, something really terrible had happened.

"Kirby, what's wrong?" Marx asked, confused about the puffball's quiet mumbling. Said puffball quickly recovered himself.

"It's-it's nothing." he reassured. "Just thinking of how to word it, poyo. That's all..."

"Was it like some sort of abstract dream?" Marx asked. "And I mean _really_ abstract."

"Yes! Was an abstract dream, poyo! Couldn't understand it!"

Marx frowned. Kirby was hiding something, and he could tell even though he had only just woken up. But what did Kirby even _have_ to hide from him? His best friend?? He hadn't hidden anything from Kirby, had he??

"Y...you're lying..." Marx stuttered.

"N-no I'm not!" Kirby tried covering it up. "I swears it! I don't know what it meant!" The last part wasn't a total lie. What was the point of even dreaming up that terrible situation to begin with? He of all people should know that these sorts of dreams aren't just random occurrences.

"Well...what happened in it then?" Marx asked.

"I...I..."

"Don't know? Or don't want to tell?"

"Marx, I can't—"

" _Can't_ tell?" This was getting...intriguing...

"No, I can't... I'm sorry..."

"Why can't you tell me about your dream, Kirby? Was it a...a nightmare, too?"

Kirby squirmed, tears soaking his eyes beneath his shut eyelids, only nodding his head in approval.

"Well...I told you what happened in _mine_ , right?" Kirby nodded again, slowly this time. "So why can't you tell me about yours?"

"You were a monster!" The words just slipped out from the pressure, hoping this would satisfy his angered friend. But, alas, it didn't. Marx was hungry for more...information...

"A monster, you say?" he said, a creepy aura in his voice. He seemed to slither around Kirby towards the other side of the bed, pinching the puffball's right cheek. "Tell me...what did I look like? As a monster; a demon beast; really, however you call it."

Kirby shook his head frantically. He didn't want to describe it. It was...far scarier than any demon beast could ever hope to look like, perhaps, besides Nightmare himself.

"Hmph. You know...all you're doing is making this harder for yourself, Kirby..." He started slightly pulling on Kirby's cheek. It hurt, though only a little at first.

"Marx, it's nothing..."

"It doesn't _sound_ like nothing, _Kirby_." he pulled more, a shriek escaping Kirby's mouth. It started hurting a lot more...like...a _lot_ more.

"Why do you want to know, poyo...?"

"Don't all friends _deserve_ to know each other's secrets, Kirby?" he said coldly as he yanked again. "Doesn't Marx, your _best friend_ , deserve to know his depiction as a demon beast??"

"YeOW! I'm not telling! Can't tell! Won't tell!"

Marx leaned in very closely and whispered, "I can make this even more painful for you... Far...far more painful for you... That is, of course, unless you tell me." Afterwards, he yanked again, as well as twist some of the ski in his hand. An audible rip could be heard as a small line of blood oozed its way down Kirby's face.

The puffball was now crying without restriction. This wasn't the Marx he knew! His Marx was kind and gentle! Warm, though self-obsessed. This Marx was acting more and more cruel. Had the nightmare changed him somehow? He squealed in terror. "Marx, it hurts..."

"I'm sure it does. Now _answer me_."

Kirby didn't want to tell.

"Should I then... _speculate_ what I looked like in your nightmare, then, Kirby?" Marx asked, a sadistic smile on his face. Kirby squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to filter out the horror. In an attempt to believe this was still a nightmare. In an attempt to wake up. But it was all in vain.

"Hiding away in your own little world isn't going to save you, Kirby."

This was still a dream! This was still a—

"How about we play a game, then?"

"A...a game, poy...?" Kirby softly asked the void that surrounded him.

"Y-yes! A game. I'll go ahead and guess my appearance in your...nightmare, ...and you let me know if I was correct or not. Only yes or no questions and yes or no answers... Surely it'll take far _longer_ to get a correct answer, right?"

"M-hm?"

"Good. So now that you know the rules, let's not waste any more time. Did I have...teeth? _Sharp_ teeth? Or...fangs?"

Out of nowhere, Marx appeared in front of him with said fangs and sharp teeth. It wasn't scary on its own. In fact, it could probably even make Marx look like some sort of cute vampire. Even this Marx here was smiling so innocently. But Kirby knew exactly where this was headed. He nodded slowly.

"Did I...have...wings of some sort?"

"N...no." Kirby replied. The Marx with fangs standing in front of him remained unchanged.

"Could I...hover up off the ground?"

Kirby paused. In his nightmare, Marx didn't seem to be able to hover at all, but then again, when he was pinned up high on the wall, how was he able to reach him? "Maybe...?"

"That _isn't_ a yes or no answer!"

"Y-yes! Yes, then!" The Marx now hovered ever so slightly above the ground, it's expression initially puzzles but then cheerful.

"Right... Was I...covered in blood? Covered in _your_ blood?"

Kirby's eyes widened. Of course. Of course he would ask _that_ question. As soon as he blinked, Marx was upon him, and retained the descriptions previously described. His innocent smile had been replaced with a sinister one. A smile of pure evil. Kirby shrieked in panic, Marx only cackling once he heard.

"D-don't hurt me!" Kirby pleaded.

"No need to worry... I wouldn't hurt a fly!" Marx said, his face and voice slowly distorting as he continued speaking the sentence. But that was a lie. Kirby didn't realize it until he felt a trickling feeling at his chest. It had been cut open, as if by some—

"Did I...have _claws_ , Kirby?"

He was slashed at again by the Marx's claws, splattering even more of themselves and the darkness in blood. Kirby screamed in pain. Looking up at him, Marx was almost entirely unrecognizable, his face now an insane, bloodied mess.

"Kirby... _did I have_ "

He was slashed again, this time further up his face. He squinted by reflex. "S...stop it, Marx..." he cried.

" _Answer my question!!_ " Marx yelled.

Kirby's eyes shot wide open. He had forgotten that he had shut himself away from everything. He wasn't at the mercy of another monster Marx. Instead he was...oh, wait.

"No answer?" Marx said, bringing Kirby back to reality. "Oh well." He jabbed Kirby in the forehead, hurting a lot more than the puffball expected. Marx was small, but he sure packed a mean punch.

"S-stop it, poyo!" Kirby cried.

"Not until you tell me what I want!" He punched again.

"AAGH! Stop, Marx! This isn't you..."

"Then _who am I_ , Kirby?"

"Why don't you tell me, then?"

"Says the one who isn't wanting to talk about their dreams! Who am I to you, Kirby??" He smacked Kirby again, who coughed out a bit of blood after the impact.

"M...Marx..."

The jester was now in front of Kirby, who was entirely at his mercy. Marx smiled, a wide, sadistic grin on his face. "Oh, poor, poor little Kirby... Going through all this needless pain when all you had to do was answer a _single question_." He hit Kirby again, this time on the cheek opposite of the one that was bleeding. After a harsh smack and a cry of agony from Kirby, it turned a bruised purple color. "Tell me what I am to you!" he yelled. "Friends don't keep their opinions from each other, _do they_??"

"N...no, poyo..."

"Exactly. And...concerning your earlier comment.." Marx continued, "You already know _full well_ who and _what_ I am."

"No...it c-can't be true..."

"Go on! What do you think I am?? Answer me!!" This time Marx hit him so hard that there wasn't even a scream. Not even a plea for him to stop. The force of the strike knocked Kirby off the bed where he fell to the floor, hitting his head on a nightstand along the way which only helped to open a larger wound from which his creamy blood could spill out.

Blood. There was so much of it... So much of it leaving his body... Why was it leaving his body...? Did the blood hate him that much...? So much that it wanted to leave?

After a little bit, however, much of his anxiety seemed to just wash away, as if the blood had taken it with them. It felt...so warm...so comforting...feeling the blood leak out of his wounds. It helped keep the cold away...at least for now. The darkness surrounded him like a blanket, making him start to feel at tad bit tired. He welcomed the numbness, the darkness. He even started to smile...

He was interrupted by a strange shaking sensation (though he could barely even feel it) and some pressure being applied where he was bleeding. Kirby couldn't tell who it was; everything was a blur and all sounds were muffled beyond comprehension.

Once everything started fading back in, he was puzzled. There was a mix of blue, red, and purple blurs that shrouded his vision. But it looked pretty. He wanted more. He reached upwards with all his strength, with his stubs being grasped by an unknown force.

His face. Something was streaking down his face. Tears. But not his...were they?

At last Kirby had been able to focus on the jester that was bawling their eyes out in front of them. It felt eerily familiar...like it had happened in a dream or distant memory, but he couldn't really figure it out. The top of his head seemed to be squeezed by some sort of bandage to keep the gaping wound from bleeding the puffball dry.

Kirby looked over at Marx, who he barely even managed to recognize, let alone in this state. The two soon made eye contact, and after a brief pause, Marx began speaking.

"Kirby, I..." he said. "I...I...I don't know what came over me. I'm-I'm sorry..."

Kirby blinked. Then again. He had already almost forgotten that he had been hit off the bed by the jester in a stroke of pure hatred toward him. The explanation failed to be adequate, though, and Kirby himself descended into a cold fury.

"Poyo, I..." he started. His voice very much sounded as if he were half-consious — somewhat bleak, indirect, and monotone. "I wanted to love you, poy..."

Marx's eyes widened. "Y-y-you—"

"But I can't. I won't. Not anymore..." Kirby continued. "A Star Warrior cannot love a monster."

"Kirby, I—"

"That's what you are, aren't you? What you've always been. This whole friendship was birthed from a lie..."

"I-I couldn't control myself, Kirby! I...I...Wh-what happened to me...?"

"Don't deny it, Marx... You're a monster."

"Kirby...I'm...I'm sorry..."

"J-just leave me alone, Marx..."

"Wha-? Kirby, you don't mean—"

Now it was the puffball's turn to act cruel. "I don't want to suffer your torment any longer." he said. "You...you've caused us so much pain..."

"Kirby...I said I was sorry..."

"And I said to leave, Marx... J-just go. I don't want you anymore..."

"But...but I..." Marx paused unexpectedly. He was trying to reach out to the pink Star Warrior, in a gesture of apology and forgiveness, but he unexpectedly found himself struggling. When at last he had managed to get his hand up, he gasped when he found it...melting? In fact, all of his being was starting to melt into a pile of colors. Immediately he started pleading ever more desperately to Kirby, thinking it could save him from his untimely fate. He cried harder than he or Kirby had ever cried before, begging for Kirby to let him redeem himself, give him a second chance — anything to escape what appeared to be certain death.

"Kirby...please!!" the jester shrieked. "I'm sorry for all I've done!! I'm sorry for making the Sun and Moon fight! I'm sorry for...for..."

The puffball turned his head the other way.

"Kirby I...I need you... You're the only friend I have left..."

"...I'm sorry for...having ever met you..."

Kirby sighed.

"Is this what you wanted...Kirby? Did you want to watch me suffer...while you sit back, ignoring my pleas for mercy without a care in the world...? Is it because I've... Is it because I've done the same to you...?"

Kirby breathed out, as though saddened by what Marx had just said.

"Am I suffering this because I...because I said I'd die for you?"

Kirby's head tilted down, a sniffle, although, quiet, was audible.

"...Kirby..."

Marx was unable to form any more words. His mouth, as did the rest of him, melted into nothingness, leaving behind only a few stains of color.

With that, Kirby was alone again.


	6. Forever Alone and Forever Numb

**_Review replies are in order (again)..._**

 ** _Nobody (again?? WTF)_**

 ** _Please read and review._** ** _Now on to the story we go! Some more serious themes this time around; you've been warned! Hope you enjoy!_**

He was alone... For the first time in his life, he was alone...

There was no one here to cheer for him. No one here to drive him on. No one here to help him, care for him... He was finally truly alone... And with all said and done, that was probably all he wanted.

These last few weeks have not seen Kirby in his usual happy-go mood. Had he changed? No! The rest of Dreamland has changed, that's who! Since _when_ were its inhabitants allowed to ask him about every nook and cranny of how he felt? Where could they have gotten the gaul to ask why he had no interest in playing children's games? Why was everyone so... _annoying_??

Were they trying to help him? To try and end this pain? No...th-they couldn't understand. They wouldn't understand... He's a Star Warrior and yet, he felt, wasn't at the same time. Even Meta Knight admitted the speed of which he had grown and matured was astonishing, likely because of his exposure to a species with a far shorter lifespan than his own. As such, talking about these sorts of things were...complicated. So he refused their assistance, refused their pleas — he even missed multiple training sessions because Kirby no longer felt that his mentor could understand what was happening, either. And he seemed to be right, wasn't he...? So he descended further into his cesspool of darkness, desperately trying to block all else out.

This was his crowning achievement: he had let Marx go. After so many years with so much torture and so much tension on both sides, their bond snapped in two just like that. Good riddance, if he'd say! What had Marx ever done for him? Whilst he was running around, risking his life for Dreamland, Marx just stayed at home, bouncing on his ball like it wasn't at all infuriating. And when he did offer to go on an adventure, he betrayed him and gave in to his selfishness, trying to take over the world! What kind of friend was that? How could he have even have a special interest in such a person?? It was...it was for the best that he was gone...

So why...? Why does he feel so...sad? A this what growing up feels like? He had overheard Tiffany and Theodore argue many more times than usual with each other over the smallest of things. It felt heartbreaking to the puffball, seeing them like this. It was once they reached a particular age when this occurred, so perhaps one just gets more easily aggravated when they're older?

No! That can't be it! Even if they've started using their conventional names, they're still the same Tiff and Tuff he had always known! The same Fumu and Bun! The pair of siblings, children of the cabinet minister, who always bickered amongst themselves but could always come together at the end because, well, that's what siblings are for, aren't they? Kirby sometimes wondered if he had a brother or sister, and what it would've been like if he had one. He could picture the two of them, frolicking along, content with their lives and enjoying each other's company. The other would probably be yellow or...blue. Dark blue. He didn't know why, but something dragged him toward imagining that specific color...

It doesn't matter! He was still...not happy with himself. His vision was blurred by the tears — they would always come at night and stay during the day, there to haunt him. About _what_ , though?? _What_?? What was he sad about?

It has been approximately a month. A month since he had landed in this strange maze-like structure, and yet he was no closer to leaving than he was beforehand. Although, to be fair, he hadn't been searching for an exit all too often...or at _all_ , to tell the truth. No; instead, he sulked up here, in these weird house-like rooms that resembled his own, surrounded by a literal void. He had stopped caring about leaving. He had stopped caring about escaping, leaving to the cheering of his friends and to the relief of all to know that their hero had returned. Or perhaps they had all already perished... Maybe they've all forgotten about him...

Whoever this kidnapper is, they were either just wasting their time or taking too much satisfaction in this sadistic form of torture. That's what it was: torture. Torture for his mind, his soul. Why hadn't they come out and, like, try and kill them or something? Surely it would be faster than letting the puffball rot away like a corpse along with any sense of love he had left.

Heh... Rotting like a corpse. He very much _was_ a corpse — a shell of his former self. He had bags under his eyes, his eyes themselves were almost always bloodshot, and his body was covered in dirt, dust, and debris. His body was numb. His mind was numb. That's all he could feel about anything anymore...just numb, without a care in the world for himself, anyone, or anything.

He might as well just die. Right here and now. Put himself out of this misery. If their goal was to break him beyond repair...then they have won before they have even started...

Kirby shook his head in a panic — the first emotion he had felt since he rid himself of the traitorous Marx. Wha-? Why did he _think_ like that? _How_ could he have thought like that? Was he— What was going—

He stood up from his corner of the living room, away from the furniture and other rooms. It was isolated...and he liked that. But this was getting...creepy. Why hadn't he he felt this before this moment in time? Was something wrong? Had something gone wrong...?

His stomach growled. He had eaten little since Marx left. Actually, he had eaten little since he had first arrived here, period. The fridge in the kitchen only had so much, and some days he simply didn't feel like eating. On days where he felt like giving up...

Kirby set his mind straight. No excuses. No delays. Nothing to set him off track. He was getting out of this place, right here, right now.

Since this house was clearly a dead end, he wandered back to the mysterious dungeon downstairs; the one from whence he came. Within a few seconds, he was in the large hub-like room. Of all the pathways, two faded into darkness whilst the rest abruptly stopped. This certainly wasn't a good sign, and despite everything Kirby still remembered which path where the original room was located. The unchecked path was directly across from this one, so he traversed down it without much question.

Not even a few seconds into this walk, he bumped into some stairs. The stairs, as did many other things, didn't come close to matching the motif of the room it was connected to. They both were stone brick-based, but the dungeon was clearly grey whilst the stairs where a shade of yellow. A familiar shade of yellow. The yellow of Dedede's castle! Kirby even had an idea as to what part of the castle this was! Why hadn't they gone here before?

He dashed up the stairs with a newly reinvigorated sense of excitement, eager to see where this new path would lead. If anything, it would be something new, something to help him escape.

Once reaching the top of the staircase, he was proven correct: the stairs had led to hallway in the castle leading straight toward the chambers where Meta Knight and the cabinet minister resided. They were on opposite sides of the hall, and he had entered from the stairwell connected to the center of it, with the wide open castle wall that would usually give a grand view of the surrounding plains and sealine instead revealing the same, familiar darkness, although part the moat was surprisingly still visible.

Even if this didn't lead anywhere, at the very least this new location provided the pink puffball with something new to keep him somewhat entertained for a short while before he would again grow bored stiff. Kirby continued along the walkway, trying to discern any additional differences between this replica and the original section of Dedede's castle, of which there were very few.

But then, he heard a distant voice call out for him. "Kirby!!" it yelled out, as if it were calling for help.

Kirby recognized the voice quickly, the adrenaline and panic quickly spreading throughout his body. "Poyo!" he responded, rushing toward where the sound had come from. It was Tiff's voice, though it sounded younger than when he had heard it last. Kirby was more familiar with the voices of his friends when he was but an infant — or a much younger infant, seeing how he technically was still considered one according to Meta Knight and his knowledge of how Star Warriors were groomed and trained. Point was, this was the Tiff he more could more easily recognize in a gathering or crowd, rather than the now nearly-adult Tiffany she had grown up to be. But what was _she doing here? Had she been kidnapped too?_

"Kirby!!" she yelled out again. Kirby quickened his pace.

He soon reached the cabinet minister's tower — the section of the castle (?) that housed the official's family. This was where the voice had originated from, and he kicked the door open and rushed inside to see what had happened.

He was shocked to realize that nobody was in the vicinity. The bed, desk, pieces of furniture — everything was untouched, as if the room had never contained any inhabitants in its history. This was clearly wrong... Where was Tiff? Was she even here?

"Kirby!"

He had forgotten the children were housed upstairs in the tower, whilst their parents slept on this first floor. He face-palmed himself for nearly forgetting this important detail before proceeding upstairs. Once up, he listened closely, trying to hear anyone or anything here. There was nothing, a deathly silence surrounded him. The puffball trembled slightly before at last arriving at the door to Tiff's room.

Opening the door slowly, he found Tiff sitting up on the windowsill, looking out toward the darkness. She didn't seem distressed at all. Maybe this was a trap? He gasped. W-was it Marx in disguise??

His irrational fears were proven wrong when she softly spoke, "Hey, Kirby... You wanna check out the night sky?"

"Poyo!" Kirby flinched. He hadn't said that. He was further surprised to find a smaller version of himself, smiling and happy as ever approach Tiff on the windowsill. It was here that he realized that this wasn't Tiff calling out for his help; it was a _memory_. A relatively old one, too, from a few months after he had first landed on planet Popstar. He approached the children slowly and cautiously, his expression somewhat confused yet curious at the same time.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the young Cappy asked.

"Poyo poy!" the small Kirby replied. Tiff chuckled a little.

The two looked out toward the blackness, seeing things the real Kirby did not. He couldn't help but reminisce; Tiff, despite being a bit of a control freak, was quite the fun person to be with. She had done so much for him...cared for his wellbeing so deeply and all. She could always bring a smile to Kirby's face, unlike the often busy Tiffany of the future. Well...it wasn't because she didn't _try_. It's just...

"Hey, check this out." she pointed. "You see those stars over there?"

The younger puffball tilted his head in confusion; he probably hadn't payed much attention to where she was pointing, so was trying to figure it out himself.

"No, no, Kirby." Tiff laughed. "Over _there_. It looks like a star, right?"

Suddenly, a series of dots of light illuminated the darkness that they were starring at which, indeed, resembled a star. In fact, it looked not too dissimilar to the warp star Kirby had in his arsenal. Tuff would later refer to it as "the meta-star", since multiple stars in the sky made up the shape of a single 5-pointed star in the sky, but Kirby never liked that name. It didn't resemble Meta Knight.

The younger Kirby starred in awe, amazed from being able to draw such pictures in the sky. He now looked around earnestly, searching for what else he could find. It was an interesting exercise, trying to discern which stars when connected created which images, and it was hard for the older Kirby, too, only being able to see the star-shaped constellation in the sky. But suddenly, tons of different shapes appeared one after the other, forming various things. One of the constellations even matched almost exactly with one that Dedede called the "Penguino constellation", even if nobody else seemed to notice it.

Afterwards, they started playing a fun game where Tiff would say a random object, then Kirby would manage to find it up in the stars somewhere. This continued for some time, with more and more of the darkness lighting up until at last all of the night sky was filled with bright spots of light. Tiff would have an arm wrapped around her Star Warrior friend, as Kirby started laying down, the drowsy pull of sleep soon overtaking the child.

Tiff would depart not too long afterward, leaving the puffball in a peaceful slumber.

Something about this situation struck Kirby's heart deep. Was it sad that he couldn't really name another moment in his life after this in which he felt so at ease? If something like this did happen, he just couldn't remember. But...but why...? Why couldn't he remember?

The tears trailed down his cheeks as continued starring at the sleeping puffball before him, each of the stars slowly disappearing, again leaving the darkness behind. Why? Why did everything want to leave him?

He gasped in realization. Everyone — Tiff, Tuff, and the rest of them — they hadn't left him. They didn't want to leave him alone. They were his friends, his allies. So then...why did he feel so lonely inside? Why was there a gaping hole in his heart?

They didn't leave him because they grew older. They didn't leave him because they grew away from him. They left because he pushed them away.

But it was necessary! He needed to save the planet! On a multitude of occasions! Star Warriors can't rest when evil is afoot!

Ugh. That sounded so much like something Meta Knight would say. The ever-mysterious ever-isolated Meta Knight. He was always reluctant to join Kirby during times of play, and he had few, if any, friends of his own. He was always serious, always focused on his duties than anything else. Kirby wasn't like that — could never be like that. It was...it would be too much to bear... The strain... The loneliness...

Kirby sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed without end, without wanting there to be an end. He was alone...truly alone, with no one there to soothe him. No one there to offer their shoulder to lean on. No one there to see him to sleep. He was utterly alone for the first time in his life...

Did he deserve it? For retreating into himself and shutting out the girl that had shown him the images in the sky and had led him through so much? For shutting out her troublemaking yet caring brother? For shutting out Meta Knight, Dedede, and everyone else? And for _what_?? Nothing...

Maybe he did deserve to rot here in this mysterious construct, alone, afraid, cold, and forever numb. Maybe he did deserve this loneliness...

Maybe he should just die. Right here. There was no one else he could go back too, only the faint memories of an era of optimism and hopefulness that had long since sailed its course. What would be the point of going on?

Kirby's blurred vision shifted toward the windowsill. The young puffball had disappeared, leaving the window wide open... He headed towards it, preparing to climb up upon it.

"So you feel it too, don't you, Kirby..."

He froze in place. Th...that voice... H-how...?

"That eternal emptiness within you... That consumes you until there's nothing left..."

Kirby turned around slowly, but found nobody there. "M-Marx..." he whispered, his voice shaky and scared. "Wh...where are you, poyo?"

"...I'm rotting... Like you..."

Kirby could feel it. His skin starting to shrivel up, starting to decompose itself. "N-no, I mean...wh-where are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding, Kirby... I'm laying here with the forgotten a-and the dust..."

After a quick scan, Kirby finally found the emotion-drained jester, his eyes dry and red, starring into nothingness, bunched up against a dark corner of the room. Kirby approached, lying down next to him.

"I missed you." Kirby said.

"I know..." Marx replied.

"I miss...everyone..." Kirby admitted.

"Why now? Not sooner...?"

"I don't know."

"Then it doesn't matter..."

"It does!" Kirby snapped. "I'm hurting everyone by turning the other way! I've hurt you!"

"It...it doesn't matter anymore..."

"Yes, it does! And I need to fix everything, starting with you!"

"Kirby...I-I don't want this... I...I want to escape the loop. This loop of anger, depression, and reunion _ad infinitum_... It...it tires me, Kirby... I want no more..."

"...W-we can always start over, Marx..."

"..,Not this time..." Marx breathed in heavily, his lungs sounding bare and unused. "...Not anymore, Kirby..."

"B...but Marx, I..." he stopped, not really knowing why. At least not until a bit later. Marx had lost consiousness, his eyes now lifelessly looking toward him like glass, "Marx...Marx, I...I—"

Marx didn't respond.

"Marx...wake up... I...I-I l-loved you, Marx..."

Nothing. Nothing again. He was alone again...but perhaps not for long.

His eyes felt heavy. His body felt heavy. Everything was telling him to sleep...to leave behind the torture of this pathetic little life... He drifted away without a question. He never noticed the blood seeping out of his chest. He had stabbed himself with a sharp knife when beside Marx, though it wouldn't matter if it was fatal or not. The damage had been done without its support; he was dead beside his former friend.

The clock stuck nine, and he woke up again. No blood, no nothing...

 ** _TBC next chapter_**


	7. Set Free

**_Sorry if I hadn't been on here much of late. Was busy graduating from high school and working on some new projects. Hope it was worth the wait for y'all. In the meantime, there are_** ** _plenty of review responses this time around! Thanks guys!_**

 ** _GirlOnDarkerSide ~ I won't blame you for struggling to follow along with the narrative. It is supposed to confuse and mislead the audience, so hopefully you don't feel too bad._**

 ** _Queen Mistaky ~ Interesting comparison you've made there. It's okay if you don't find the relationship between Kirby and Marx in your interests and/or zone of comfort, as long as you recognize its significance within the progression of the story. Concerning your confusion on the sense of reality...read on. It will reveal itself in due time._**

 ** _EveningEmerald ~ It is, indeed, a never-ending cycle. Or at least it seems that way..._**

 ** _King TeTeTePose ~ Glad you're excited! *slams table*_**

 ** _Once again, Rn_** ** _Rs are highly appreciated! Thanks again, and, at long last, on with the story!_**

Marx sat still, worried and afraid. Not about their, situation, no. Not anymore. Having been kidnapped had stopped being interesting many months ago, especially with its perpetrator still yet to be seen. He had deduced not too long ago that this wasn't just any insane abductor that had forced himself and his best friend, Kirby, into this strange place. No. It must be the work of either yet another villainous group or an age old menace. Dark Matter, perhaps?

It didn't matter. Not right now, anyway. Something was off. Very off. It was Kirby. It wasn't his behavior; he had gotten used to the fact that Kirby was acting like a grown up, or what he believed to be a grown up. None of the adults that Marx knew matched Kirby's perceptions, but he could understand the puffball's efforts to an extent. It wasn't a secret: Kirby certainly was more of a child then much of everybody else. Maybe he just...wanted to change that? But...why? It made no sense...

Yet this too wasn't what was dominating Marx's thoughts. Rather, it was how Kirby had acted in the past _day_. Out of nowhere, his enjoyable company was suddenly nowhere to be found. He went all droopy and sulked to himself, desperately trying to escape every form of interaction with Marx as possible. In fact, he didn't even seem to want to sleep beside him the previous night, either. Something was very clearly amok, and Marx, as he usually did, was going to prod his answer out.

"Kirby?" he whispered. "You awake?"

Kirby didn't say anything. It wasn't because he was asleep; Marx could tell from his sobs and his face being plastered onto the pillow that the puffball was awake.

"Kirby, come on. You can talk to me." He pat the Star Warrior on the back. "Please?"

Kirby remained silent again, but only for a little bit. He finally sighed circa 30 seconds later before deciding to speak out. "There's no point..." he said, his voice dull, raspy, and strained. It was as if it had been put through so much pain it didn't even care anymore.

"Wha—what do yo mean there's—"

"There's no point in trying to find an escape from this place, poyo..." Kirby mumbled. "There is no escape..."

"But Kirby, w-we don't know that for sure—"

"I've been looking, Marx. Looking for much longer than you know..."

Marx squinted in confusion. "Huh? What're you talking about?"

"We're trapped Marx. Not physically, but mentally... Trapped in an endless loop of death and despair—"

"Who died?" Marx asked. "I don't understand what you're talking about!"

"I've died, Marx. I've died hundreds of times."

He froze. Something was clearly making Kirby — _his_ Kirby — act delusional. But something was telling him to let Kirby continue. Something was telling him that he was telling the truth. A small voice, but a significant one.

"Sometimes I died by your hand... Other times I simply starved to death, alone... Sometimes you were there with me...a-and others...you-you left me, Marx..."

The jester was taken aback. Sure, he was a little nuts, but to this extent?? "Wha-?" he said. "K-Kirby, why would I ever want to hurt you? Let alone leave you?"

"Turn me around, Marx." Kirby whispered. Marx slowly yet reluctantly heeded his command. He grasped his friend's body, noting that it was deathly cold to the touch. That wasn't a good sign...

When Marx finally turned Kirby to face him, he noticed various scratches all over the puffball's body. But it didn't seem like anything major.

"You aren't allowing yourself to see the worst of them, Marx..." Kirby moaned.

"Wh-wha... St-stop it, Kirby! You're scaring me—"

Kirby shushed his friend, though with admittedly little effort. "Shh... Be quiet... Look..."

Marx squinted. He didn't at all understand what was going on. This made no sense! He could tell Kirby wasn't lying, but this was just... _what even??_ He felt like slapping the puffball upside the head, to knock some much-needed sense into him.

"Don't lose your patience..." Kirby murmured. "Open your eyes, ...relax...and you will see them in due tme."

After a puzzled look appeared on his face, Marx loosened himself up. The tension in his various body parts were relieved, and slowly but surely he was able to make out some new markings on his friend. And what he saw made him gasp in horror. All over Kirby's body there were scars. Lots of them, and most of them seemed to go very deep. This is likely what he meant by having died a bunch of times — how could one even be able to survive with just one of these wounds, let alone _this_ many? "Who...who did this to you??" Marx asked.

"I've...already t-told you..."

"But...why...?"

"Because..." Kirby groaned as he tryed to turn himself back over, but to no avail. "Because, Marx... th-there's no point... There's no point anymore..." The puffball couldn't stop himself from crying. "There's no point in trying to escape... We're trapped here with no hope of leaving... N-not even _death_ can allow us to leave..."

Marx gasped, but only for a moment. "You...you mean... H-how...?"

"I don't know!!" Kirby screamed. "I don't know why we're stuck here or why we can't leave! We weren't kidnapped, Marx. Not by anything we could imagine, but we might as well have trapped _ourselves_ here... in a maze with no prize...a game we can never win..."

"Kirby..." Marx said. He really wanted to calm the puffball down — he really did — but what could he even hope to do?

"...and it's all my fault..." Kirby moaned. "I pushed you and everybody else away, a-and I-I don't know why... But whatever it is, it's come back to haunt me... To torture me without end... Is...is this my punishment, Marx...?" he asked in desperation, terror in his eyes. "Is this purgatory...?"

Marx thought hard about what he'd say. He didn't want to screw up. _This is for him._ he thought. He spoke, "I...don't know, Kirby. B- _but_! Kirby! There must be some higher reason for what's happening, right? W-why else would every room in this maze be modeled after some place you've been? And...I know it's been hard for you, trying to find an answer to your...unsolvable problem, but-but that's why I'm here, right?"

Kirby's eyes widened, as he looked, for the first time that day with an emotion that wasn't grief or depression, intrigued. With a small semblance of wonder within his bleak emotions.

"We're best friends, Kirby..." Marx said. "Trust me...I would never try to hurt you...at-at least of my own fruition." He added that last bit at the end given what Kirby had explained earlier.

Kirby said nothing. He blinked, starring straight into Marx's eyes, shaking a bit due to his insecurities concerning whether he had said the right things. They stood, or rather, layed like that for a solid minute, neither seeming like they wanted to move in case they upset the other.

And then, without any warning, Kirby leapt into Marx's arms and hugged him. Tightly. Taken aback by this, Marx nearly fell over, but just managed to keep his composure.

"Thank you..." the Star Warrior whispered.

"Hey. It's what I'm here for." the jester responded. "You don't have to be sad anymore."

"But I'm scared, Marx..."

"Me, too. But we'll get through this. We always do."

"I...I hope we do..."

"...Me, too, Kirby."

The embrace lasted for a decent amount of time — how much time? Neither was keeping track, as it wasn't important. Not now. Not when there was so much pain to dissolve. Not when there was so much sorrow to soak up. The two of them — no, they and everything that surrounded them — were motionless, as if stuck in time. All except for the ever present darkness behind every window.

After the two finally separated, Kirby looked much better off than before. Marx breathed out in relief; this was exactly what he wanted. He and Kirby, together, happy, ready to take on the world, or wherever it was they were.

"So..." Kirby began.

"Yes?" Marx said.

"I...I'm thinking—"

"What is it?"

"Well...if, well, all of _this_..." the puffball raised his stubs to point out the room they were situated in. "I was thinking about what you said. About all of this being places that I'm familiar with..."

"What about it?"

"I mean...if that's what this labrynth is based on...could that mean we're..."

"We're where?"

"In a dream? Like one of my dreams?"

"Hm." Marx scoffed. "From what you've described, this would be more like a nightmare than a dream."

Kirby caught on to his tone. "Marx, this isn't the time for jokes."

"But I'm serious!" Marx stepped up. "Wouldn't it make sense given all the horrors you said you've suffered? You even said this felt like purgatory; i.e. a never-ending nightmare!"

This sudden discussion about everything suddenly made Kirby feel ashamed. He started having second thoughts. "No, no... F-forget about what I said..."

"Wha-?" Marx was taken aback. "What're you _talking_ about? You're idea makes sense! I'm not trying to make fun of it, okay?" He paused, realizing that perhaps he was sounding a little harsh, and maybe that was what was scaring his friend. He began again with a more somber tone, "I really do think you're right... Can't I at least help you try to understand what's happening to you?"

Kirby shifted uncomfortably. "M-Marx... I-I get it, that you're trying to help... But—"

"But _what??_ " Marx snapped. He quickly covered his mouth afterwards.

"If I'm right...a-and this is all just a nightmare...th-then how can I be sure you're real?" Kirby asked.

Marx was speechless.

"I mean, you don't seem to remember all the times I've died — all the times _we've_ died, Marx..." Kirby explained. "I've...s-seen you twist into h- _hideous_ monsters. I've been stabbed, choked, had my guts ripped out, and everything in between, and all by your hand, and whether you were in control of not, I always awoke beside you, peacefully as if nothing ever went wrong. As if you've done nothing wrong..."

Marx just starred at him, emotionless. Growing more bitter by the second.

"So tell me...Marx..." Kirby asked, "In this room, this situation, right here, right now, are you real...? Or are you just a figment of my imagination, torturing me for whatever it is I've done wrong??" He was crying again, but this time Marx did not choose to comfort him. "What are you trying to tell me, Marx? What did I do wrong?? Is it because I left you all behind because I was growing up?? Is it because of _something else_?? I don't know what you want from me!"

Lightning flashed from beyond the windows, illuminating the darkness that surrounded them. A gust of wind surged in what was a room whose air was deathly still. A chill ran down Kirby's body as he looked up to see Marx, his eyes shrouded in shadow, not even in the form he often took when he murdered the puffball countless times. In fact, he was entirely silent, his form completely still and unchanged. Kirby, on the other hand, was swept aside by the sudden burst of wind, struggling to grab on to something — anything — to survive.

But wasn't it all pointless? If he were killed during this, he'd just wake up again, as if none of what happened here happened, but with time advancing nonetheless. No. This was just an instinct. A primitive instinct of survival and self-preservation, as Meta Knight had taught him. Yet there was nothing to be scared of! Hadn't he already grown numb to the cycle of death and terror that was this nightmare?

And yet now he felt fear. He felt scared. He had a sense of adrenaline. But why?

 _It was Marx..._ Kirby realized. _We've had become so empty...so emotionless... That is why he is here._

Marx was never supposed to hurt Kirby. He was supposed to save him. Save him from this bleakness, this...darkness. The one that surrounded them even now. And he had believed that Marx meant for the worst when in reality he had meant for the best. And it was all his fault.

But no. Not this time. He was not going to abandon them anymore. Kirby wasn't going to run from himself anymore. He was going to confront the darkness within. The true culprit behind this elaborate scheme.

He was tightly grabbing on to the edge of the bed. If he let go now, the wind would shoot him out the window. Kirby took a deep breath, loosened his grip, and let go.

A hand suddenly grabbed hold of him. The puffball gasped, turning to face who had done so. "Kirby!" it said.

Kirby smiled. He knew who it was.

"Good luck..." Marx told him.

"Th-thank you, again..." Kirby replied.

And with that, he was set free.

 ** _TBC_**


	8. Two but One

**_As usual, review replies are in store:_**

 ** _Queen Mistaky ~ Thanks for sticking around through the hiatus (btw, "hiatus" is far too overused on this website). I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Also, cool theory, bro (or ma'am, I guess?). in terms of Kirby's psychological issues...just you wait 'till you see what I have in store._**

 ** _Anyways, thanks for the views feedback again. Here is chapter eight. This is quite the odd one, as you'll soon probably find out. How each chapter keeps getting weirder than the last is funny to me, but also kind of the point. Some interesting stuff is revealed here, too, so enjoy!_**

Blackness.

Ever-surrounding, omnipresent blackness.

A world with no light. An invisible maze with no prize. A shadow encompassing all, including those who touched it. What secrets did it hold? What truths was it hiding? Kirby didnll't know, and, determined as he was to find out, couldn't know.

He tried. He had so desperately tried. He wanted so desperately to be able to move, even just an inch, to be able to navigate the sea of blackness that surrounded him. He wanted so desperately to figure out what had gone wrong with him. What had trapped him in this nightmare — this twisted reality. What had made Marx be the death of him for so many countless times...

But he couldn't...

His stubs, his body; _everything_ was numb. So numb. So devoid of life. It was maddening; he thought he knew what needed to be done and yet he was wrong... So...so wrong...

And so here he was, floating around in his endless abyss, unable to change direction or...much of anything. All he could do was sob. Sob quietly to himself as he had done so many times before, and yet this time felt different because he really did want to figure out his trauma. To unlock the secrets his mind refused to allow him to see. But...he couldn't...

He was too weak...

It was too late...

There was nothing left to do but die... Over and over with no escape...

He was so close... so close this one time, and yet he was still so far away...

 _D-don't leave me, Kirby..._

"I...I'm sorry, poy..." the puffball muttered. "I...I didn't want to leave..."

 _We care about you, Kirby... Don't leave us..._

It was crying. The voice was crying. "I'm still here..."

 _P-please, Kirby! Don't leave me behind!!_

"Marx—" he gasped. He remembered that Marx had, only after he had first died in here yet no other times afterwards, fallen victim to some sort of nightmare. It was like he was begging Kirby to wake up. _To wake up from_ this _nightmare..._ he thought. Okay...so he was asleep. Or perhaps even...

No, that couldn't be it.

He spoke up again. "Marx?" Kirby said. He didn't know why, but he could feel Marx's prescience within this strange realm. And unlike the Marxes of his subconscious, this one felt...different, as though it was emitting some sort of aura. Strangely, he also could feel something hugging up against the right-hand side of his body, but he couldn't who it was that was doing that. Surely, it was Marx. Maybe this is what he meant by "don't leave me behind"... Kirby must've been asleep for so long that Marx couldn't let go...

"Marx, I'm here!" he called out again. "I know you're here. I...I need your help..."

Kirby waited...and waited. He didn't know why, but deep down he knew Marx would somehow respond. And he did.

 _Then why didn't you ask for us sooner...?_

Kirby was stunned by the response, but wasn't surprised with what was said. He must have been locked away for so long... "I...I don't know, poyo...but I can't find out unless you help me... I-I missed you...and I need your help..."

 _...No. Y— I know what you are, Kirby... You're cold... You do what you call righteous without question, and you leave all your mistakes behind..._

"Wha-? Marx, what're you taking about?"

 _What we had between us for so long... It...it meant nothing to you, did it? None of us did! Not when you attacked us!_

"N-no! I never attacked you—"

 _Dont you remember it, Kirby? The burning remains of Cappy Town left in your wake? I thought I was a monster...but_ you _...you're a demonbeast...j-just like they said you were..._

"Marx..."

 _I didn't believe them at first! I thought it was another one of Dedede's tricks, but after seeing you there...seeing what you've caused and what everything had lead up to...I had no other choice..._

Without warning, the darkness suddenly cleared, and despite Kirby's view being obscured by his tears, he could still be able to see what memories surrounded him. It all came back to him at once.

It had started happening shortly after the destruction of the dark lord Void Termina, destroyer of worlds and evil incarnate; a being lacking any form of happiness within itself. When he was destroyed by Kirby and his Star Allies, Marx included, Void Termina didn't simply disappear. That, of course, would have been too simple. Too easy. The universe was full of balance: happiness and sadness, light and dark, positive and negative. To fully destroy Void Termina would be like saying one could remove all darkness from the universe — it was infeasable, especially since some form of hatred would always exist in some lifeform somewhere within the universe. The reverse was true as well — Void Termina's desire to eradicate all life and return the universe to a state of entropy and nothingness, too, was infeasable. There was too much light.

So what if Void Termina, rather than combat the happiness that opposed him, simply sucked it out of one of the universe's shining rays of light? Rid the greatest warrior of his cause to fight and his destruction would be assured. But Void Termina was crafty...always crafty. What if it not only rid the Star Warrior of his light, but replace it with...for lack of a better term, itself? It was a brilliant plan; infect Kirby, destroy his happiness but by bit, then infect him. When all that was left to oppose the darkness was the darkness, it was clear who would win.

And so, lacking explanation, the shifts in behavior began. Even in death, Void Termina still could commandeer all that was sick, twisted, or empty. And when Marx had shown up so suddenly on the puffball's little adventure, he served as the key into the emotions Kirby had tried to keep buried for so long. Suddenly, and without warning, Kirby had started to grow consious of his childishness...the thing that had provided him with much of his happiness for so long., all thanks to Marx's reappearance. Neither realized this, of course. It was instrumental they believed nothing was out of the ordinary.

Once Kirby left his friends standing there on a hill, ready to play another game with him, it knew it had succeeded. With this golden opportunity, Void Termina slipped into Kirby's unsuspecting mind. The two were similar in many respects, but Termina disguised itself as a small little voice in the back of the puffball's mind, telling him and feeding him things. Lies. Distrust. Anger. Hatred. Anything that would make him dive deeper into his own rut...

And when he had nowhere else to go, when he had been led far away from them all... When he was the most desparate...

 _Listen to me, Kirby... I will help you when they turn away. I will free you from your suffering..._

 _That's all you'll ever need to do... Just...listen to our voice, Kirby..._

And he said yes. What happened next is obvious. And it would've been foolproof, too, if it weren't for that wildcard Marx and the puffball's mentor, Meta Knight, who stopped him before it was too late. Vanquished a second time, Termina retreated into the depths of Kirby's subconscious to fight another day, leaving Kirby, empty and alone, to rot there on the burning fields of Dreamland and die.

Kirby only knew this because Void Termina had intertwined itself within Kirby's mind so much that it's memories were now his... He could feel it's eternal numbness. He could feel it's pain when Kirby had finally defeated it. He was left utterly speechless... There was no forgiving what he had done.

When he finally collapsed in front of them all, he knew they would never forgive him. It was better that he stay asleep...and never wake up... It was better for all of them...

And yet...he was wrong. Meta Knight had known from the start that something was amok, and he did finally manage to convince the crowd of angry Cappies to not hurt the fallen Star Warrior. He had been through enough as it was, and being the respectable mentor that he was, the Cappies did ultimately calm down once all had been explained.

But not Marx. Marx, despite everything that had happened, knew Kirby was still in there. The Kirby he knew and loved. The sweet, caring Kirby everyone knew and loved. So once it was all over, Marx expected Kirby to wake up in a confused state, as though he had come out of mind control. But he didn't wake up. Kirby was aware of everything he did, and was ashamed. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to hurt them again.

Then Tiffany tried to take his pulse. There was nothing. His heart had been replaced with nothing.

Marx was left broken. He was a mess of tears by the time Kirby had been brought home, laying in his bed. Everyone was upset, saddened by the whole experience. Even King Dedede couldn't help but pity his rival for what he had been made to do. But he would be punished. Not now, but later. When he woke up, he would properly be punished for his actions. But Marx didn't care. Not one bit.

Most everyone had left the house, and Kirby layed there, motionless, lifeless. He might as well have been dead. He felt dead. He wanted to die. But Marx refused. He refused to let the pink puffball die. Refused to accept it. He cried his heart out, hanging on to what hope was left and sobbed into Kirby's right cheek. It felt almost stone hard.

"D-don't leave me, Kirby..." he sobbed, choking between his words. "We care about you, Kirby... Don't leave us... We need you to come back for us...to have our sunshine come back to us..."

 _I can't..._ Kirby thought. _I don't have anything left within me anymore..._

 _Just let me die alone, Marx..._

"N-no! P-please, Kirby! Don't leave me behind!!" Marx pleaded, but to no avail. It was already too late. Far too late...

Where had all the light gone? Where had the pink spot of joy disappeared?? Wasn't the nightmare supposed to have ended?? It couldn't still be ongoing, could it?? Oh, Kirby...

Marx sniffed, and muttered, "I want to help you, Kirby... I don't want to let go... Just let me help you... J...just let me help you..."

He slowly drifted off to sleep, repeating the last set of words until they were slurred beyond recognition. Marx had trapped himself inside of Kirby's purgatory...

So why, then, did Marx say all these things to him? Why did he call Kirby a demonbeast?

Maybe there was still some darkness left within his soul...

And within it, he heard Void Termina laughing.

 _You can't fight us, Kirby. Not anymore. You haven't been able to fight against us for so long..._

"Unh..." Kirby struggled. He tried to stand but lacked the strength to do so. In spite of this, he metaphorically stood firm. "You...made me hurt them...f-for so long..."

 _Give up, Star Warrior. You've been mine for long enough. If you wake up, we will just wreak havoc once more!_

"Get out of my head, poyo!" Kirby yelled.

 _Do you not know how intertwined we have become, Kirby? We are just as much a part of you as any other voice inside your mind._

"E-enough!"

 _We have funneled so many negative thoughts into your mind, Kirby. And now you have been tainted beyond recognition. You aren't even Kirby, anymore..._

"N...no..." His eyes started to feel heavy and everything began to muffle around him. It was happening again...

 _Maybe you need another reminder of what you really are... Don't fret, though. It won't hurt._

This was it, then... It was over...

Here he would rot. Here he would stay, a slave to the will of the darkness...

His muscles loosened, and his body went limp. All hope within him dissolved away like nothing...

Because he _was_ nothing...

He was nothing... Nothing...

But he refused.

"...no..."

He refused to accept his fate. He felt a small spark of light within the darkness, and grabbed it with what energy he had left.

"No!! I won't let you!"

Suddenly, the darkness that had threatened to return was washed away by a blinding light. The voice screeched in pain.

 _What?? No! It can't be!! I have wiped you clean of your love! Wiped you clean of your hope!! This is impossible!_

The puffball felt his strength return to him. He remembered his friends. He remembered everything they had done together. Everything they had gone through, everything they had grown through.

 _Kirby!! The light!! It's too much!!_

Termina was right. The light...oh...the light... It was so brilliant... So warm...

He passed out.

* * *

Kirby awoke surrounded by the blackness again. He gasped when he realized it, as he had expected to awake as he always did when he died in this nightmare; next to Marx, as if nothing had happened.

He might as well have wished not bin had happened. But he knew what was going on.

He knew what he had to do.

In front of him was a crystalline heart-shaped object, about the size of Kirby himself. The Jamba Heart...or at the very least, one last fragment of it. Perhaps the only thing keeping Void Termina sentient within his mind.

It was almost colorless, but within its blackness there were small but noticeable swirls of pink, with lines of red streaking downwards, coming from cracks in its surface. It was clearly wounded, but how...?

It didn't matter, anyways. All of this hardship had led here, to this moment. To the dark lord's demise. And Kirby would finally finish what he started...

Kirby stepped up to face the Jamba Heart head on. He put his stubs upon it, but upon doing so started to feel a bit queasy...

The stuff leaking out. It was blood. _His_ blood.

Kirby gagged in his mouth. This wasn't Termina's heart. It was _his_ heart. But this wasn't right!

 _So here we are..._

Kirby had half-expected Termina's cold, terrifying voice to emerge from the shadows. He had also half-expected Marx to appear and explain what was going on. The voice _did_ belong to Void Termina, but it sounded...different. It sounded less dreary and more...alive... Less desperate and more...sympathetic?

"What have you done, poy...?" Kirby murmured, his voice shaky. "Wha-what have you done to my soul?"

 _...You already know. We wanted you as our puppet. We wanted you as our envoy to destroy those who stood in our way._

"But why?" Kirby squealed. "Why me...?"

There was silence for a good while, as if Termina was struggling to word its response to the puffball. "Why did I have to suffer, poyo...?"

 _...You were a beacon of light... Of hope... Of love. We were destined to fight against one another... And we almost won, Kirby..._

Kirby looked wearily again at the Jamba Heart in front of him.

 _We did manage to corrupt you. To destroy your happiness. But we did not account for what would happen to us during your transformation._

 _This heart you see here. It is true that it is our soul, but it, too, is yours, Kirby. We had intertwined so deeply within your mind, meddled so deeply within your thoughts, that we ceased to exist as a single entity of evil and darkness incarnate. We had become a part of you, Kirby. and when that happened...we felt things we had never felt before. Things we were never supposed to feel..._

 _We have felt love in our past... There does exist love used as means to an evil end. We have felt happiness in our past... The sadistic satisfaction of blood in one's own hands, of witnessing pure destruction unfold before you... But_ this _...this was something entirely different..._

Kirby's eyes widened. He could feel Termina's darkness within him. He could feel it mixing with his other feelings, his essence. Then, out of nowhere, he saw a face emerge from the Jamba Heart.

 _We didn't understand! All of this positive emotion and light...wouldn't it have just neutralized with our own negative aura? Why was it still there? And why were we starting to...brighten up?_

 _We soon realized what was going on. Your light and our darkness...it was coexisting, as if it were in a perpetual state of equilibrium._ _The universe exists in a perpetual balance, after all, Kirby...and as your emotions got darker and we convinced you to destroy Dreamland...our emotions got warmer...lighter... We were no longer a being of pure hatred and destruction, but something more...something far greater, Kirby...than either of us separately..._

It was himself. The face in the Jamba Heart was his own. Kirby was looking at his own reflection...

 _And whilst you learned to hate, we learned to love... Whilst you learned of pain and suffering, we learned of hope and...happiness... We couldn't take any more destruction once we saw their eyes, Kirby. Your friends —_ our _friends, as we fought against them and they tried so desperately to bring you back... To bring us back... The pain, it was too much... We couldn't bear their suffering any longer..._

"And so you left me there to die..." Kirby said.

 _There was no other way... We couldn't forgive ourselves for what we have done..._

"And so we hid. We hid until we could...figure things out, poyo?"

The reflection chuckled, then smiled. _And we think we finally did..._ It was Kirby who was talking, his voice no longer distorting itself. A stray tear rolled down his cheek.

"Th...this all is...Termina, it's a lot to take in, poyo..."

 _Kirby... Termina does not exist anymore. And neither do you...at least how you are used to knowing yourself... The two of us are now one in the same... We are the embodiments of light and darkness, love and hatred, combined into a single entity in_ _what should've been a perfect harmony, but was left clouded by our own selfish desires..._

A few more tears rolled down Kirby's face.

 _We love you, Kirby..._

He blushed, breathing quietly as his tears continued to leak from his eyes.

 _We love..._ us _, K-Kirby..._

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide his own embarrassment from himself. He could feel the room around him grow warmer, as if the darkness itself, too, was blushing along with him.

 _We want to know something..._

"Y-yes?" Kirby asked himself.

 _How did it feel in there...in our trap...to be passionate with Marx?_

Kirby's cheeks were now steaming red, and the temperature started to feel more and more unbearable...

 _Did it feel good? Satisfying?_

"Y-you're me, right? Shouldn't you know?"

 _We are two sides of the same coin, Kirby. We may be one in the same but the two of us, even though we share the same mind, can still experience separate thoughts. What you felt when you were with Marx...for us it was as if we were more or less reading it off the pages of a book._

"So...you want to experience it first-hand, right, poyo...?"

 _We l-love you so much, Kirby..._ His voice grew desperate, as if begging for Kirby to say yes.

Kirby felt the darkness approach him, wrapping itself around him, but not in a threatening manner like he had previously experienced, but...carefully. As if someone were wrapping their arms around him, or if he was being wrapped in a cool blanket. It felt so inviting after all that heat...

Was this what it felt like? How it felt to have the light and dark mix within himself? If so...he didn't want it to end. The embarrassed warmth of his body being counteracted by the breezy cold that surrounded him; it made his skin tingle with excitement, a thirst for more.

 _We're...taking that as a yes?_ he asked himself.

His face appeared in the darkness, taking the expression of what Kirby knew Termina's emotions were suggesting. He looked so cute...

He looked down one final time at the Jamba Heart. The darkness that coated its surface. The pink that swirled within its core. The blood seeping out from its cracks. Both Kirby and Termina were very much broken, both experiencing things they never were supposed to. But that didn't matter. They were two, but one.

Kirby nodded, and he closed the gap between himself.

 ** _TBC_**


	9. Waking Up

_**Here are some review replies as usual. Again. You know. EHHHH**_

 _ **We've got three this time, so here goes!**_

 _ **GirlOnDarkerSide ~ Sad: yes. Confusing: yes.**_

 _ **The TRIGGERED Lemur ~ Thanks for liking the plot twist I added in to the last chapter! I thought it would be cool to add an interesting dynamic to the, in my opinion, flat good v evil message of Kirby Star Allies by literally adding in a grey area.**_

 _ **...and lastly, our frequent regular reviewer...**_

 _ **Queen Mistaky ~ I had an idea you were a girl. What kind of male calls themselves a "queen"? But going back to the topic at hand, yes. Marx is indeed alive, and he will again become relevant in this chapter. Void Termina refers to themself as "we", and its gender is left unclear, as it is an entity, not a person. This, however, doesn't mean you can't refer to them via "he" or "she". That's fine with me. And concerning your last bit of text...let's find out!**_

 _ **Thanks for all your reviews, guys! Hope y'all enjoy this next chapter!**_

He was numb. Again. He was numb again. Just like he usually has been for such a long time. But never before has it ever felt so calm, so...inviting...

 _Kirby..._

"Unh...wh-wha...?" It felt too good...

 _Kirby, wake up._

"N-no..." He didn't want to wake up...

 _Get up, Kirby._

"I don't wanna, poy..." He didn't want to lose this feeling. This feeling of...completion, of harmony in motion. He didn't want it to end. He wanted to stay this way forever...

Kirby's passionate embrace with Void Termina had been far better than any would have expected, exceeding even his own expectations. That bit Termina had mentioned beforehand about how they were light and dark, whatever it was (the words were a bit fuzzy in his mind at the moment), had unfolded in an indescribable way, leaving him now in this state of pure and absolute bliss. There was nothing left for him now. There was nothing left for him to do. What else could compare?

 _Kirby, get up._

"Y...you're too soft..." he mumbled. "Wh...where are you, poy...?" His eyes were mostly closed, squinting, trying to free themselves open.

 _I'm over here._ Termina was right in front of the puffball. _What's wrong?_

"Nothing...nothing's wrong." Kirby smiled. "Not anymore, at least..."

 _Kirby, we need to leave._

"Why...?"

Termina's insistence suddenly came to a halt. He frowned, confused, his patience starting to run thin after having asked Kirby to get up so many times. _What?? What are you talking about?_ they asked.

"Why do we have to leave..."

 _For your friends' sake, Kirby! O-_ our _friends! And for us, too! We need to get out of this place a...and wake up!_

"Why would I want to wake up, poyo...?

 _The pain! I've felt your pain! Your agony of being trapped in this place! It hurt, didn't it? Doesn't it? D-don't you remember?_

"I do. But it doesn't matter anymore."

 _Why not??_

"'Cause I'm not afraid of the pain, anymore... I'm not afraid of death, anymore... No thanks to you..."

 _Wha-? What're you going on about?_

"This...this bond we share...th-this connection, I guess is what I'm trying to say... It's perfect, isn't it?"

 _Y-yes..._ Termina couldn't help but blush slightly. After their urgency earlier, they had nearly forgotten how much pleasure and ecstasy they and Kirby had unleashed. But the two of them had been resting for a while now, and Termina was at last eager to continue in their journey. A deep desire within itself had been fulfilled, and now all that was needed was to finish their journey. They were on the home stretch, after all...

But Kirby, too, had fulfilled one of his desires — a desire he never even knew was there until it happened. And now he didn't want that experience to end...

"I'm...I'm like a shining star surrounded by the darkness of space." Kirby rambled, trying to sound poetic. His struggles and pauses only made him sound more and more cute. "A shining, warm beacon of light and hope surrounded a-and blanketed by the cold nothingness..."

 _And yet we're both here. Surrounded by, affected by, and interweaves with the other..._

"Termina..." he moaned. "I don't want it to stop."

 _I know...but we must. There is so much more to live for..._

"B-but there can't, poyo..." he softly cried. "There can't be anything else so wonderful, could there?"

 _Kirby..._

"N-no... I want to stay here..."

 _Kirby..._

"I want to stay here with you..."

 _But Kirby..._

"I want to stay here with you... Just like this."

Kirby struggled to lean upward. Unsure of what else to do, Termina lifted his body off the ground when he leaned in closer. Their faces were nearly touching, and Kirby's was very much warm.

"I want to be your star, Termina..." he whispered, closing his eyes.

Without warning, Kirby's temperature began to cool. Termina didn't initially take it with much alarm. _Kirby... We...ehm..._

Kirby starred bleakly up toward himself, still smiling.

 _I...I'll let you be my..._ They stopped mid-sentence. Something was wrong. They didn't know what, but something was wrong.

But why? When everything just seconds ago was so bright and happy?

Their stubs were starting to feel so icy cold, the type of cold Termina would have been used to feeling before having merged into Kirby. But after so long...after so much warmth, it stung. But they refused to let go.

 _Kirby, w-why are you so...c-cold...?_

"...I said I was your star...poy..." the star warrior muttered. He was getting quieter by the second.

Termina gasped, feeling a shiver down its spine. They knew this feeling. They knew what it was... The cold, the stench. It was starting to smell awful, wherever it was they were. It smelled like...like blood...

This feeling...was of death. Kirby was dying.

 _N-no! Kirby!_ Termina yelled. _Don't fade away! We haven't woken up, yet!!_

"W...we'll be alright..." Kirby promised, his voice now barely audible. He looked so weak and defenseless, yet that bright smile of his was still there plastered on his face. Was he truly happy, ignorant or not caring about what was to come next? Or was he just covering up the pain he must surely be feeling within himself? Something must be killing him from within, Termina reckoned. How else could be _dying_ when nothing had harmed them so far?

 _Kirby!_ they yelled again. _K-Kirby, no...! Kirby... Kirby..._

Now Termina was staring to feel bleak. And tired. And everything else. Their strength was waning, and they could feel their grip on the fallen warrior loosen. They held on to him for dear life.

They were dying. It and Kirby were dying. The room they were in was dying. The light...the darkness...all was dying...

They frantically looked around, hoping to find something — _anything_ — that could save them, until their eyes, watered to the brim with tears, fell upon the crystalline heart they both shared.

On its front face was a large, gaping crack, with pieces of what looked like glass shards littering the otherwise spotless ground. Liquid gushed and spewed out of the open wound. The colors pink, black, and crimson red were pouring out of the damaged container, leaving its wake a chaotic mix and mess of color. They would have tried to fix it, but too much had already spilled out into the room that there was nothing they could do. There was too much... There was too much blood...

Termina starred at it in shock. That crack couldn't have been natural. That wasn't how the Jamba Hearts usually worked! No. Someone had come in and had murdered them without a second thought. Without a hint of remorse. But why? After all this...? It made no sense...

It hurt to think. It hurt to move. Everything was painful, and yet Termina's grip on Kirby remained strong. They refused to let him go.

The puffball had lost all his color, left as a desaturated shell of his old self. His soft, squishy body had turned rough as stone. His eyes, once full of life, we're now glassy — like those of a lifeless doll. Termina would've cried out in despair, but what despair was there left to feel? What sadness was there left to express? What feelings were there left? Nothing. There was nothing. There were no emotions for Termina to feel, no sensations, no anything. They had all leaked away like the blood had. All that was left as an instinct to grasp the other one tightly. It had meant something once, but any detail had been long forgotten.

The two corpses were left surrounded by an empty void. But it was worse than the darkness from before. Although it certainly didn't look as though something was there, the darkness itself was still there. Everlasting and ever watchful, acting as a field of which to project either the abundance or absence of light in a particular direction. It was an intangible yet omnipresent field that helped give one a sense of direction. Of where oneself was in space, along with the other fields tapped into by one's senses. But _this_ was much scarier. Here, there wasn't even any darkness. It was an absence of light, yet also an absence of the field needed to be aware that there was an absence of light. There was literally nothing. This was total, neverending nothingness. And that was how it was going to be, how all was going to inevitably end, forever. After all, there is no concept of time when nothing exists. When nothing can move or feel. When everything, even death itself, was dead. The eternal graveyard. How fitting. The two things needn't — couldn't — lacked any ability to — worry, complain, or attempt escape. They were truly trapped here. Alone. With only themselves as company, not only because they were unaware of the other thing's existence, but also, as one of the things had said before they arrived here, they were essentially the same thing.

But then...a foreign sensation struck one of them. A burning, agonizing feeling. The feeling itself was the culprit — the corpse hadn't had to feel anything for...well, who knows how long. Having to suddenly feel alive and aware of its existence was enough to feel like it was already about to die again. The pain was excruciating, incomperable to anything, as this had been its first time experiencing pain since it had become aware that it could feel pain.

Time, space, sound, light, darkness; all came flooding into the thing's feeble body. It cried out in agony. What being deserved such torture?

And then it ended. It was suddenly and finally used to having itself be alive. It remembered its name, it's purpose, it's prior existence. But why?

It's name was Void Termina. It's name was Kirby. It was darkness incarnate, and it was the defender of the light. It was one being, yet also only half of one being. It felt...odd. It had felt — nye, _been_ trapped, a victim of his own hand. And it so desperately loved the other half of itself. But for now there was a more pressing matter.

Previously, they and the other thing, Kirby, had been in complete and total emptiness. But now, able to sense itself and its surroundings, Termina was confused. Very confused. How were they _alive_?? Where _were_ they, exactly?? Who? What? When? Where?

Termina, remembering the purgatory they had partaken in, had believed that Kirby's never-ending death cycle had been limited only _to_ said purgatory. It was a dream, after all — a terrible one — but it did have its rules and constraints. This was something completely different. Here, it felt as though they were literally raised from the dead.

They stretched out their worn out limbs, but it was still very painful. It seemed as though they needed some warming up as well. But as Termina raised up their stubs, there was suddenly a...cold sensation. A feeling of emptiness...

"KIRBY!!" he yelled. They had let go of Kirby. They grabbed hold of the puffball before covering their mouth in surprise. Termina had never directly spoken before. It had formerly been a cosmic entity, after all. Such primitive organic speech mechanisms were therefore unnecessary, so this, too, was a surprise that puzzled them even more.

They were about to close their eyes and whimper, but after having grabbed Kirby, Termina had caught sight of something else in the distance.

It was another puffball. Maybe it could help! "Hey!" he called out. They waved their free hand up and down. "Over here!" They then started heading toward the other one, but with no ground or gravity, movement was difficult. It wasn't impossible, so they were soon on their way.

The questions didn't stop coming. In fact, they seemed more plentiful than ever. But one in particular stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of them: why hadn't Kirby woken up yet? _They_ certainly have, but not Kirby. He was still as lifeless as ever. This didn't make sense; surely they both would have come back to life in wherever this dimension was, but that wasn't the case. That is, different people took different amounts of time to revive here, but Termina didn't think that made much sense, either. Either Kirby truly didn't want to wake up or something was keeping him from doing so.

 _Maybe that's what he meant..._ Termina thought. _Maybe that's what he meant by not wanting to wake up..._

The pain...it was so terrible... It had made them wish to remain dead. Maybe Kirby didn't make it passed that. If he somehow knew this to be their fate and this is where they woke up, it did make some sense as to why he'd want to stay put. But...no. This made no sense, either.

They didn't wake up. Not at all! They _died_! Really, _truly_ died! It wasn't like in the nightmare at all! There, they only woke up as if from a peaceful slumber, but _this_ was vicious. Assaulting. Traumatizing. They couldn't help but look away from Kirby, the poor soul. He had gone through so much...

As they approached the other puffball, Termina was engulfed in dread. Immediately, they knew something was very clearly off. It and Kirby looked almost exactly the same, save a few minor details. Both lacked color and both were lifeless. It was initially quite the mysterious ordeal. But soon enough, once Termina looked away from the two dead copies in front of him, he gasped in horror as panic overtook his system.

All around them were hundreds, if not thousands, of these empty puffballs, some more mutilated than others. They littered the entire cosmos, as if Kirby's remark about being Termina's star was take to a cruel and extreme degree. There were so many that Termina felt the urge to gag, but couldn't even do that. Everywhere they looked, there was another one somewhere in the distance.

And most terrifying of all, every one — every single one of them — was Kirby, or at least _used_ to be Kirby. It was hard for Termina to take in, and he let go of their own Kirby in shock. This couldn't be possible, could it?? _How_ could this be possible??

No... It...it was too much. Termina buried its face in its paws, shutting their eyes tight as they cried without end. They refused to accept what they have just witnessed, but they couldn't unsee it. Kirby has died so many times...

Suddenly, like a light switch, Termina gasped in realization. It was faint, but they had just barely remembered the last thing they had told Kirby before he succumbed to their darkness. Before they had fully become defiant of their original purpose. Before he sealed them away in the nightmare.

They were right here, the two of them; Kirby and Termina. Before the fateful final confrontation, it seemed as though Kirby wasn't even aware of how many times his life's reset button had been pressed, as if he were a part of some cruel game where he had to try over and over again until he got things just right to succeed in his mission. But not that time. Back then, Termina knew it would likely break Kirby's soul to realize just how much pain he secretly had been subject to for his years protecting planet Popstar. And for that, they made sure Kirby was fully aware during his next reincarnation.

It sickened Termina to the soul just thinking that they had done that to the poor puffball not too long ago; murdering him to destroy what remaining innocence he had left. But it worked; once Kirby had arisen, he ran away from his friends. His dearest friends. He had ran to the most secluded part of Dream Land to sulk and loathe this curse placed upon him. And being so vulnerable, weak, and broken, Termina, within Kirby's mind, had offered him solace and rehabilitation in exchange for control over his mind. And it worked...

But they've changed, haven't they? They've seen, nay, _felt_ the light! They've been changed by it, haven't they?

 _Perhaps not..._ Termina admitted to themselves. _Maybe we haven't changed when we merged with Kirby..._

They were no longer saddened by Kirby but at themselves, for their cruelty. They just wanted it to end. Why couldn't they have let Kirby fight back?

They gave in. They let go, and waited for the emptiness to absorb them, to rot away again. It was a punishment fitting for what they did...

Wasn't it?

No.

Something was different. They were different. They _had_ changed. Why else would they be loathing themselves? The old Void Termina wouldn't loathe itself as it would be counter active toward their ultimate goal of universal destruction and eternal darkness.

But what was different? Sure, they had mixed with Kirby's happiness and love, but if that were the case, they would've stopped their cruelty earlier out of pity, wouldn't they? No, something else had tipped them over the edge.

They loved Kirby. They truly did. The warmth and joy he provided was spectacular, and Termina had aimed to dim and abuse it for their own purposes. But once it was gone...

Termina froze. That was it. They had figured it out. They hadn't changed because they loved Kirby. Love could be abused for darker purposes, after all. No. They had changed because the light was extinguished. They had extinguished the light.

And they couldn't live without the light. Not anymore. It suddenly made Termina desperate. Genuine and pure love, joy, and happiness — the terror their puppet was causing didn't provide any of that. Kirby had. And they missed the warmth. They missed the light. And it was then when they realized their fatal miscalculation. After that, they wanted Kirby back. No longer because of necessity or ulterior motives, but truly because of this love for the bond they shared. This love of Kirby and all he found joy in.

But with Kirby gone, Termina had to now process these feelings themselves, and it wasn't exactly a great time for that, with Kirby's shell causing chaos and all. But they were going to try. They were going to try to revive the light. They were going to try and revive Kirby by...well... _becoming_ Kirby.

And at last, when the monster was poised to murder one of those friends, the defenseless jester known as Marx, he at last had his chance.

Termina opened his eyes, and all went white.

 ** _How do you suspect this story will end? Leave your suspicions in the reviews._**


	10. It's a New Beginning

**_HALLO MEIN VOLKE!!_**

 ** _Is me, Simmon_**

 ** _lol jk is Simon_**

 ** _It is time for the last set of review replies until next story. Thanks to all who hav_** ** _e given their constructive criticism replies throughout! It has been well appreciated._**

 **GirlOnDarkerSide**

 ** _Confusion: (X)_**

 ** _Good chapter: (X)_**

 ** _Got you to cry: ( ) lolnope_**

 ** _Dammit! I'll get you next time! *plots vengeance*_**

 ** _In all honesty, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter in spite of your confusion (which was sort of the point of the chapter, btw). Sorry if it's too cryptic, but eh._**

 **The TRIGGERED A.F. Lemur _~ Yeah. You should probably hug both Kirby Termina. Comfort them after the hell they've been through. Or...just Kirby...'cuz he's technically both of them—? *brain explodes*_**

 ** _And thank you for reading._** ** _And now for the finale._**

His vision was so painful... His eyelids felt so heavy... Everything...everything was too bright...

His breathing was slow and weak, as was his heartbeat. Every single bone, muscle, organ, or otherwise within him was aching. He felt as though he had just gone through an immense migraine. Every fiber of his being seemed to be yearning for death, an end to the pain, and yet in spite of everything, the puffball was, the most relieving sense of the word, alive. And awake. At long last he was free.

Termina — Kirby — shielded one of their eyes from the light source hanging above them. He were laying face up on his bed in his house. His real, normal-sized house. He was atop his real bed, laying on his real pillow, starring up at his real ceiling. It wasn't some delusion. It wasn't some mind game or nightmare. It was real. Everything felt the same to the touch, but somehow there was this instinct deep within telling the star warrior that he was truly awake.

And with that knowledge, he turned to the figure slumped against the side of his bed, where he had been lain after he had gone berserk. After he had killed so many innocents. After they — _he_ had seen what he had afflicted to his victims and to himself. Their friend had been sleeping with them as a result, and it was all their fault.

Did he even deserve to wake the jester up? Did he even deserve this mercy? Did he even deserve to have woken up?

No... He couldn't. He had seen to much.

As soon as he got up, Kirby planned, he'd exit his house, grab his Warp Star as quickly as possible, and leave. He'd leave Dream Land alone after he had so nearly destroyed it. He'd leave because Dream Land didn't deserve him.

 _Then it's settled._ Kirby thought. He would be leaving Dream Land. To save it from himself. Where he would end up, however, was the most challenging question for Kirby to answer. Where would he go? Where _could_ he go? To some random, unknown, dark corner of planet Popstar? To another planet? Another galaxy, even?

No. That was too much. Dream Land may not deserve him, but they do deserve his protection. He'll make himself into a myth, hidden beneath the shadows until danger inevitably struck, when he'd arrive to save the day before retreating from whence he came. He'd be the hero only when he was needed to be the hero. Think Meta Knight, but even more mysterious. Sounded like fun...

Didn't sound too bad, in fact... But that still didn't answer the question. Where would he go? The borderlands of the kingdom? The Outer Territories?

Before Kirby could put any further thought into it, he heard the jester stir. His hat appeared wrinkled and patched up in some places. His shoes were dull and their laces unkempt and untied. The poor thing had gone through a lot. Well...to be honest, _everyone_ did.

"Marx..." he whispered.

Their eyes slowly opened up, and Kirby was kind of expecting him to take a deep yawn and to get up and stretch. A small sense of panic overtook the puffball. He was expecting Marx to do one of three things; A) lean up to him and whisper something along the lines of 'Good morning, you.'; B) stare at him apprehensively, not saying a word as guilt slowly consumed the puffball; or C) get up and leave. Kirby wouldn't have been surprised with any of these actions should Marx have done any of them. And Kirby would have traded up regardless of which scenario occurred.

But no. Marx didn't even get up from his position, leaning onto the bed more or less. His face was blank. He was perfectly still. He wasn't even looking at Kirby at all. His eyes were directed toward the ground, as if he was depressed about something. Kirby couldn't help but already feel his eyes begin to water.

Then he said some words. Marx, sounding tired and drained, said six little words that struck the puffball like bullets. "You aren't really Kirby, are you?"

Everything that the star warrior had in his mind was immediately erased and replaced with soul-crushing grief. He struggled to hold back a sob. "M...M-Marx...wh-what are you..." He couldn't even finish a sentence.

"I know what you are..." Marx continued to mutter. "And I know what you've done... You killed my best friend...and, in essence, you've killed me as well..."

"Marx, please..." Kirby cried. "Wh...what are you saying, Marx...?"

"You...you truly are heartless..." Marx now stood atop the puffball. Both of their eyes were wide open, one in terror and the other to terrify. The jester's eyes were pitch black, as was a fluid oozing out of his mouth as he spoke, slowly spilling onto Kirby's exposed body. "You took away the only thing we ever cared about... Th...the only thing I ever cared about!" The voice was growing more and more angry.

"Marx, please...!" Kirby desperately begged. But it was to no avail.

"You took away the only person I ever loved!"

"I-I'm sorry..."

"You took away the only person who trusted me despite all the pain I've cause him!"

"I'm sorry, Marx..."

"You took Kirby away! YOU TOOK MY KIRBY AWAY, YOU SICK FUCK!!"

"..." Kirby was left without a voice, without any way to respond. To stop the dark liquid from spilling any further. Marx's eyes were bleeding the stuff. The walls were oozing it, too.

"I should've listened! I should've listened to Meta Knight's warnings earlier! About you! And the terror you'd cause!! And..." Marx struggled. "A-and I didn't think it to be true... I didn't believe him be-because...because I thought you were still alive, Kirby..."

The two of them were now sobbing. Marx's tears stung the puffball like salt in an open wound.

"But no... He...he was already dead, wasn't he, Termina? You killed him. You took him from us. You took him from me...s-so you could have him for yourself..."

"I...M-Marx..."

But then he stopped. Though it was only for a little bit, it was enough to allow Kirby a small window to try gather what pieces of himself were left after having been smashed so many times. The keyword was try. _Was there anything left..?_

Marx was grabbing something — a weapon. It looked familiar, a dagger of some sort. He put the sharp edge right underneath Kirby's mouth, still squirming from the endless well of tears.

"Once I knew he was gone, Termina, I thought..." Marx sniffed. "I thought I could get him back. All I had to do was...cut him out of you..." As the jester spoke those words, the dagger dug into the puffball's skin, making Kirby yelp in pain as he drew blood.

"I thought that...all you had to do...was die...and then Kirby would be back again. My Kirby would be back again..."

"I'm right here, Marx..." Kirby choked.

"And so I killed you. Right here." The knife dug further into the defenseless, long-broken star warrior.

"Th-then kill me, Marx... I...I don't deserve to live..."

"But I already have. Yet you're still here, Termina."

Kirby could feel the weapon grazing up against his heart, or at least it felt that way. As though Marx were teasing him with the prospect of death. "More... More pain... I deserve more pain..."

"No. You deserve to die alone. To rot away and feel the pain you've caused. The pain you've caused to all of us..."

Kirby focused behind Marx's figure. Behind him were everyone else. King Dedede, Tiffany, Meta Knight — all who had once been his friend. Or, at least, their silhouettes, before they faded into the darkness. The puffball fell onto the floor, bleeding from his wound, coughing up even more blood once he had collided with a loud thud.

He was inside the room again. The first one. The very first one. The dimly lit one where he had been handcuffed, and where the nightmare had began. And, he presumed, where it would end, as would any further nightmares from his part. He struggled to get up, desperately clawing his way off the ground but instead collapsing in a pool of his own blood.

He caught sight of Marx, readying to shut the door that would soon separate them. "You don't have to do this, Marx..." Kirby wept.

It was left unanswered. The door slammed shut, and Kirby was left to be trapped alone in the room, his life slowly trickling sobbing away.

In one last bit of desperation, Kirby begged for Marx to come back. For the nightmare to end.

"M-Marx...Please don't leave me here..."

No one came back.

"I...I don't want to die alone, Marx... I-I need you..."

No one came back.

"I know I deserve it b-but...why this? Why this cold...? Wh...why did you leave me here to die, Marx...?"

No one came back. It was heart-wrenching agony. It was the ultimate punishment. He was being left there to rot away for everything he had done...

In his delirium, Kirby continued his mumblings.

"I...I loved you, Marx... Wh...what do I have to do to convince you...?"

"Do I have to do something...? Must I do something to convince you...?"

"Do I...Do I have to die again to appease you...? To just waste away just like you and the others want...?"

"I'll...I'll just lay here then... I'll die...just for you..."

"And I won't come back..."

"I promise..."

Everything now started feeling fuzzy. The sensation was far too familiar at this point.

And he would make sure his promise wasn't empty. If he had the choice, he'd stay behind in that abyss. He would not come back. And if he had to return, as he always had, he'd leave. He'd leave everyone. He would run away and never look back.

 _Just for you._ Kirby sighed.

Everything started to lose focus.

Everything started to feel numb...

 _Here it c_ _omes_...

"Kirby?"

"Kirby! Wake up! Please! I...I..."

"D-don't leave me, Kirby..."

"We care about you, Kirby... Don't leave us..."

"...M...muh..." Kirby started to stir.

"N-no! P-please, Kirby! Don't leave me behind!!"

Kirby snapped awake, shrieking due to how loud Marx had wailed. Marx gasped at the sight. Once both had recovered from the initial shock, they started at each other intently. The jester looked as though he had just seen a ghost, his eyes filled to the brim with tears. The puffball looked, by comparison, usual, though confused.

They were back in Kirby's house. The real one. On Kirby's bed. The real one.

"H...hello, poy—" Kirby tried to greet his friend, but was soon pulled into a tight embrace.

"Y...y...you're alive..." Marx stuttered.

"I'm alive." Kirby repeated, tone all. Not surprising — he wasn't even sure how.

"Are...are you alright...?"

"I...I don't think so." Kirby sighed. "I guess you aren't, either, poyo."

"I am now..."

"...M...me, too..."

Their embrace continued wordlessly for several minutes, neither wanting to escape the warm touch of the other after how long they've been asleep. When, at last, they pulled apart, they both appeared noticeably better, especially Marx. At last, some happiness had returned to his tortured soul.

They spent a bit more time silently reminiscing the whole experience, laying down on the bed they've been asleep on for what felt like years when Marx suddenly spoke up.

"So did you mean it?" he whispered.

Kirby perched up. "Huh?"

"Did you mean what you told me back there?" Marx said more clearly, though still quietly.

Kirby shifted in his spot. "Yeah..."

"Even the death part?"

"Y-yeah, poy..."

Marx scooted closer toward the puffball, twidling his stubs. "Even the, uhm...l- _love_ part?"

Of course he'd bring that up. His cheeks went red in embarrassment.

"I-I mean..." It seemed that Marx was embarrassed, too. "The things y-you fantasized us doing i-in your, uhm...dream..."

Kirby sunk his face further into his stubs. _Why why WHY did he need to bring that up now??_

"I-is that how you feel about me, Kirby?"

 _There's no point in hiding it now..._

"Y-yeah..."

Kirby couldn't notice it, but for a split second, a grin appeared on the edge of the jester's lips. He quickly covered it up with a gulp.

"Y-you know, Kay..."

Kirby froze. Marx hadn't called him by that nickname since the Sun Moon Incident from years back. What was he trying to—

"I just want you to know that, uhm...if you want, we could try something out?"

Kirby turned towards the jester. They were inches away from each other. "Say that again..." _That couldn't...He wouldn't be—_

"If you're fine with it, Kay...I-I'm willing to let us try some—"

Kirby closed the gap without any warning, not like that was important. He wasn't going to hold himself back now. Not again. Not anymore. Because this time, it'll count.

As their passionate kiss continued, Marx couldn't help but feel both so dumbfounded yet so satisfied. He had harbored some feelings toward Kirby in the past, and had suspected that maybe Kirby shared those feelings, but had left it at that. But he hadn't expected Kirby to be so...commandeering in the exchange.

But that wasn't important. Nothing else was. A wave of raw emotion pleasure exploded within them as the kiss became more feral and they rolled across the bed looking for that perfect position.

Once they finally separated, they were both gasping for air, having nearly lost all of their breath in the endeavor. Both were panting like wild dogs, and both kept the other right on their sights. They had done similar things in Kirby's purgatory before, yet none had felt quite as genuine and meaningful as this, likely because they were both finally awake and fully aware of what they were doing.

It took a while for them to cool down, both trying to comprehend what had just happened and what it meant for them. Kirby, now much more relaxed, leaned back and asked Marx, "S-so does this mean..."

Marx only nodded in response; it was the only one Kirby needed then and there to affirm that this wasn't any sort of trick. The star warrior before long moved to another topic, one that too was a wound in his heart that long needed closure. "And...and everyone else?" he asked. "How are they doing...since I left...?"

"Well..." Marx pondered for a bit, thinking of how exactly to word his answer. "I-I don't know everything because, uhm...well, I've been _here_. With you."

Kirby's excited attitude quickly sunk with that remark. _I should've known... Why did I even ask?_

"B-but I did catch some things before we, well...brought you here." Marx quickly added, not wanting Kirby to be saddened any more than he already has.

Kirby looked up. "What did you hear?" he asked softly.

"...I think the first thing's first; we all were certainly _shocked_ with what happened, Kirby. There's no denying that... But despite everything you did, w-we... What I'm trying to say is, well... we still care about you."

"Wha-?"

"Let's just say that we can know when you're yourself, or at least Meta Knight can. It's certainly not like that Demon Frog debacle from years past."

"...But I..."

"We know. We know. And to be honest, I don't know how that's going to end up, but...from what I can tell, we always can rebuild. Cappy Town certainly seemed like that's what they'll be doing. Sure...you took the pill the darkness offered you and, uhm...kind of _are_ the darkness now, I guess... But you're still our Kirby. Y-you're still _my_ Kirby..."

"Marx..."

"Yeah, you'll be held up for what you've done, but at the end of the day..." Marx took a deep breath as he turned toward the puffball. "you're still our friend."

Kirby starred down at himself, at his stubs. They had the faded remains of soot and a small bit of dried blood staining them. This wasn't a scar that couldn't be washed away. But he can grow from it, just like he always has. Just like everyone else has been doing. "Th-thank you, poy..." his response wavered.

Marx finally arose from their comfy resting place, stretching his arms and such before turning around. "Well? You coming?"

"Huh?"

"It's a big world out there, Kirby. A lot better than being trapped in here, that's for sure."

Kirby was a bit uncomfortable with the proposition. "Y-you sure that everyone'll be fine seeing me?"

"For the most part, I guess. But who are we to not wing it and find out?"

"..." The window soon caught Kirby's attention. The blinds were opens just barely enough for the puffball to see out the window. It was a beautifull, sunny day, as was usual in Dream Land. There were butterflies minding their own business whilst Cappy Town, though small from this distance, was visible. The children were playing outside whilst the adults were busy fixing one of the buildings that had been destroyed. "I want to help them."

"Who?"

"I want to help fix this mess."

Marx snickered. "Well, get up, then! You can't help anyone from here."

For the first time in, well...who knew how long, Kirby didn't feel weakened or pathetic. Kirby didn't feel confused or sad. He felt confident, energetic, ready for what the universe would bring him, and...happy. For the first time in a long time, Kirby felt like his old self. Like his true self.

He got up, walked toward Marx, and together they opened his front door, a new sense of purpose and happiness in his soul that was ready to be fulfilled.

 ** _And that is the end._**

 ** _Thank you for reading._**


End file.
